


Sober

by ForeverOutlandish



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Abusive Grisha Yeager, Angst, Character Death, Depressed Eren Yeager, Depression, Eventual Levi/Eren Yeager, Eventual Smut, Grisha Yeager's Bad Parenting, Hange is Hange, M/M, Nonbinary Hange Zoë, Past Abuse, Rating May Change, Slow Burn, more tags as the story progresses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2018-11-18 08:50:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 67,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11287836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForeverOutlandish/pseuds/ForeverOutlandish
Summary: For nearly a decade, Eren had only ever experienced isolation and pain. Living on his own, he becomes accustomed to the meager life he'd managed to scrape by with, convinced that was all he'd ever make of himself. Originally he was content with this, but slowly he begins to feel the burn of a flame long forgotten begin to spike once more. Will he finally breach his shell of comfort and find enjoyment in life, or will he succumb to circumstance and allow the rekindled flame to die once more?NOTE: For anyone wondering, Levi makes his debut in chapter 13, however I would highly recommend you read the entire fic so that you have some context on how Eren has ended up at the point he's at in that specific chapter. Thanks for reading.





	1. Ashen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd, slowly working through kinks in other chapters while updating. Thank you for your comments and kudos :)

Normalcy always seemed unobtainable to me. I was always the odd kid out at school, chosen last when deciding teams, and thought of as a bit on the eccentric side. I was loud and boisterous, unforgiving and hard-headed, a kid who was outspoken with a big imagination, and big dreams too. These things never seemed strange to me, but then again, I had all the ignorance that a child could have.

My mother never told me different. She never judged me, she never spoke ill of me, and she certainly never hurt me. She’d do the opposite, actually. Every time I came home, bruised and bloodied from a scrap with a few kids who’d singled me out from the crowd, she’d take me inside with a light scold for fighting. She’d look at me with those bright, understanding eyes as I was wracked with ugly sobs only she had ever seen. Cooed to me in a soft voice that things would get better, and I would grow stronger. She always restored that beautiful spark in my imagination every time it began to grow dim and tainted with thoughts I dwelled too long on, questioning why the other kids never seemed to like me.

It didn’t occur to me _why_ I was always the outcast until she died. Cancer is truly a hideous thing, sweeping in quickly and ripping the frayed tapestry that was my family almost overnight half way through my freshman year of high school. She died quickly, and, I hope, painlessly, but left behind all of the pain and anguish she so diligently kept hidden from me. I was left alone and angry, full of all the angst of a teenager, forced to endure it with no outlet.

My father was less forgiving of my antics than my mother ever was. The first time he hit me was right after mother died. It was only a slap, simply a scold for coming home past curfew. I had managed to scramble together a rag-tag group of friends who were similar enough to me once I had started high school, and had been out that night with them. My rebellious streak was quite strong, and I didn’t quite feel like ditching the fun for my ten-o-clock time restraint. It didn’t take long, however, for that slap to turn into so much more. Until every small mistake I made left me battered and bruised in my room, crying and cursing myself to no end, repeating to myself over and over how horrible I was – _how can you never do a single thing right?_

It was then, a year after the first strike, curled in the corner of my room sporting a fresh black eye, that the idea that something was _truly_ wrong with me dawned, and I began to realize that I should be everything I wasn’t. I should be quiet and reserved, not loud and obnoxious. I should be well mannered and behaved, not eccentric and noticeable. I should fade into the crowd and become invisible, not stand out. Mother never told me these things because she felt pity for me, probably, and a part of me was angry at her for it. Angry because she never told me I should change.

With these thoughts in mind, I began to focus hard on how I acted and reacted to things and people around me, began to notice how terribly wrong I went about things, and set about changing everything that I did to something more appropriate. Something that I thought both my mother and my father could be proud of. I started slow, pulling myself away from the group of friends that I’d grown to love over the past two years, locking away the part of myself that wished to joke and talk loudly with them without a care for anyone around us. I began to apologize a lot whenever I spoke too loudly, or whenever I caught myself speaking out of turn. Eventually I didn’t speak unless spoken to, and even then it was only enough to satisfy the other person with an answer to whatever they’d asked me.

My friends stuck around at first, asking questions, pretending they cared that I was changing, before writing it off quickly. They were under the assumption that I was this way because I’d lost my mother. They never asked why I had new bruises every week again, and I knew it was because they thought I deserved them. They knew how I fucked everything up, it was just the _same old Eren_. The Eren that could never do anything right. I began to loath myself to no end. For everything I did, I would smack myself up and down about it in my mind several times over.

_Stop speaking so loud, idiot!_

_Why can’t you ever get it right?_

_This is why nobody likes you._

Day in and day out, my mind would wrack itself with the same dialogue. Reminding me, relentlessly, to keep myself in check. Eventually, my friends stopped talking to me, save for Armin and Mikasa, because they couldn’t stand to interact with me anymore. I was a burden, I didn’t do enough, I never went out anymore, and so I was no longer fun for them. It was sort of a blessing in disguise for me, I finally came to realize. I was changing myself for the better and they still acted the same. Like children, caught up in their fantasies. I fooled myself into believing I could endure the encroaching loneliness that followed me through my junior year, even after Armin and Mikasa had acted like they didn’t know me the first day of that year. I knew it was for the best.

The rest of my schooling went by quickly, almost in a haze. My father still found things to scold me for, and damn it all I could never be perfect enough for him. It didn’t matter how much I changed, how quiet I grew, how close to a ghost I had become, he still managed to find those small flaws and insecurities I still held. He was always harsher with his words than his fists, but eventually I began to associate them both as one single attack. Both stung and stuck to me like glue, leaving behind both visible and invisible scars all over my body.

When I graduated high school, my father kicked me out because I couldn’t get into a decent college. I had finally amounted to nothing in his eyes, and I knew it wasn’t unjustified. I had failed him as a son, and he no longer had any reason to keep me around. I remember the night he told me to leave as clear as day. He had beaten me within an inch of my life, tossed a suitcase at me, and told me how disappointed mother would have been with me. I didn’t cry as I walked out the door, I couldn’t. I deserved it, and I never looked back.

 

I shook from my thoughts as loud clap of thunder rumbled through the shambles of my apartment. The few pictures I had decorating the walls swung, and I thought they might finally snap and break off. I didn’t particularly care, though. They weren’t pictures I had fond memories of, or held any meaning to me. They were simply there, serving their function for decoration, just as I was sitting here, on my battered and torn couch, awaiting the next day so that I can drag myself back to my mundane job, and serve my function to society.

My stomach growled with the same ferocious baritone as the thunder outside, and so I stood, making my way across stained carpet and yellowed linoleum until I reached my shabby cabinets. Opening the only one I used, I pulled the overly sugary cereal I always ate out and dumped it into a chipped bowl I’d pulled from the sink. I didn’t bother with milk, since it wouldn’t make a difference anyway, and sat at the small table that I’d shoved into the corner of the kitchen. Using my arm, I mindlessly shoved away the papers and discarded mail that littered the surface to make space to eat, while taking my usual seat in the single, squeaky dining chair that occupied the table.

My movements were robotic, my arm lifting and dropping as I pushed spoonful after spoonful of the dry cereal into my mouth and chewed in a lazy staccato. It was tasteless to me, bland, familiar, but that’s what it was supposed to be. I didn’t like to change things that didn’t need change. Who cared about cereal so much they had to buy a different kind every time? This one didn’t suck and I could afford it, so I ate it.

Sighing, I lifted myself from the chair and grabbed my bowl, dumping it back into the opposite side of the sink I had designated for dirty dishes, then made my way to my room. I grabbed a towel and a fresh pair of boxers, then padded off to the dingy bathroom that connected to my bedroom. The temperature valves of the shower squeaked just as obnoxiously as the dining chair as I set the water to as hot as it could go, just above lukewarm, and let the room fill with steam.

My routine had always been the same every night for the past three years I’d lived on my own. Come home from work, eat, shower, sleep, and then wake up to go to work. There wasn’t much else to do, since the meager pay and long hours of my job ate up most of my focus. I couldn’t afford to take time to enjoy things like going out on the weekends drinking, or even taking time to read a book. I had to work or I’d have no place to stay, and that was that. I didn’t even consider trying to go to a community college after I was kicked out of my childhood home. I wasn’t worth the effort, I’d be wasting the professor’s time and taking an enrollment spot from someone more deserving of it than I.

I’d stuck a job at a grocery store stocking shelves just down the block, where I could get my food at a discount and didn’t have to exhaust what little savings I had on a car. The laundromat was just down a few streets from the grocery store, and there was a park I could walk in after my shifts if I didn’t feel like going home. I had all I needed, in my opinion. Some would say my life was sad, but I didn’t think so. I was doing what I could with what I had. I wasn’t making a fool of myself, and I was keeping out of everyone’s way. I didn’t bring unnecessary attention to myself, and I didn’t cause trouble. I was trying to be something that wasn’t a complete and utter disappointment to my late mother.

However recently, I’ve begun to grow less comfortable with my circumstances. Not unhappy, not sad, as I’d said before, but just…less comfortable. I found my eyes lingering on bar signs and restaurant names, feeling a long forgotten spark of curiosity urge me to visit, before that familiar bark in the back of my head reminded me to keep my head down and be grateful for the menial life I had made for myself.

_Isn’t that enough for you? You ungrateful piece of shit._

Finishing my shower, I pulled myself to the towel rack and dried off, slipping the fresh boxers on and padding back to the bedroom. I tossed my clothes somewhere in the darkness and flopped onto the bed, too tired to care about the discarded clothing. Sleep really couldn't come quicker, sometimes.


	2. The New Guy

The harsh snarling of my alarm woke me from my peaceful slumber. Eyes snapping open, I yawned and slapped the top of the blasted thing, turning it off and rolling off the lumpy mattress. Glancing at the bright blue numbers, I groaned. Six o’clock, definitely not as early as yesterday, but still painful all on its own.

After a short bout of stretching my sore muscles, cursing the horrible mattress under my breath, I went about my usual routine. First showering, then dressing into my uniform, scarfing down more dry cereal, collecting my slim wallet and the keys to my apartment shortly after, and then making my way to work once the door was locked behind me. I’d considered leaving it unlocked many times. I didn’t have much, and it seemed redundant to lock away nothing, but I always end up doing it anyway. Blame my routine, it never changes.

Something I was definitely not looking forward to was dealing with my manager, Hange, simply because I felt more exhausted than usual. I knew it was selfish to have such a thought about someone who treated me so kindly, and I bashed myself internally once more about what an ungrateful piece of shit I was. Who was I to think so poorly about someone, especially someone who took time out of their day to talk to me? They’re the reason I landed the job, and I considered them a friend, though, they were probably the only person I could give such a title. I usually didn’t mind them, they were quite nice and meant well, but I was feeling the onset of a headache picking at the back of my head and my eyes wanted to glaze over.

The short, ten-minute walk to work felt like a four-hour hike uphill, and I wasn’t quite sure why. I guess today was just an off day, my legs felt like cinderblocks had been tied to my ankles…I wrote the blame off to the cheap bed. Clocking into work was strangely uneventful, I was contemplating spending what little I had for a better mattress and found I had made it all the way to the double doors of the back stock room without so much as a peep from my usually boisterous manager. Shrugging to myself, I turned and started getting today’s stock ready to be placed out. My peace was short-lived, however, as it turned out Hange had been waiting for me in the stock room with some strange guy I’d never seen before.

As I approached, I winced at the shrill voice of my manager calling my name. It resonated inside my skull and pushed the intensity of my headache up a notch. I sighed, taking a brief moment to look the unfamiliar stranger up and down.

He was tall, hair two different tones of blond, and had a very long face. It kind of reminded me of a horse, and I stifled the small smile that itched to spread across my lips at the thought.

“Hange, I’m right here, who’s this?” I asked, trying not to show how tired I was in my voice, keeping my tone light and lofty. I was not about to act moody towards the person I owed my livelihood to. At the end of the day, friends or not, they were the one who signed my paycheck.

“Eren!” They cried, dragging the last syllable in a sing-song manner that made my skin crawl. They gestured to the stranger and a glint of something I didn’t quite catch passed over their eyes...oh boy, what now?

“This is Jean! He’ll be our new stock boy to help you out, okay? Now before you complain, I know things have been a bit hectic recently with the product changes we’ve been making, so I’m sure the extra help organizing is much needed! Make sure you teach him well, but I’m sure that goes without saying, you’re our best stocker after-all. Please play nice, Eren!”

They waved and made their way through the double doors before I could get a word in edgeways. I took a moment to gather my thoughts as the other boy took a step backwards and rubbed the back of his head with a muttered apology. I shook my head and sighed, waving him back through the next set of double doors that lead to the loading area. Did I really complain that much to Hange? Was I really that stand-offish towards people? I guess I never noticed…and that thought alone sent a cold shiver down my spine.

_Get a grip on yourself, Eren. You’ve been too lax._

“Jean…right?” I asked, cutting my train of thought, keeping my voice soft. It was a light attempt at breaking the ice since he looked about ready to either run away or implode. I don’t know why Hange insisted on lying about the real reason they hired this Jean guy, they’d only just been going on and on about how lonely I must be as the small corner grocer’s only shelf stocker. I always insisted it was fine, I quite enjoyed the mind-numbing menial work in solitude. It was the one time of day I allowed my imagination to run wild. I guess they thought I needed company.

“Y-Yeah, and you’re Eren? Really I’m sorry about that back there. I just got this fucking job, and she had grabbed my hand and dragged me along. I don’t even really know what I’m supposed to be doing?” He stammered, adverting his eyes with a light blush dusting over his cheeks. I thought it was unnecessary.

“They.” I corrected, earning a confused look from the new guy— _I really should remember his name--_  forcing me to elaborate. I sigh.

“Hange prefers ‘they’.”

He gave an understanding nod and another apology and I found myself getting annoyed.

“Stop apologizing, they like to throw things at me, just come over here and we can start unloading boxes. I’ll show you where they go. It just takes time to memorize the store setup, but it’s small, so it shouldn’t be too hard.”

I really need to remember to control my emotions. Jean seemed to pick up on my annoyance and quickly nodded and shut his mouth. With that, instead of going about my day dreaming, I pushed myself into a fit of self-loathing, which only made me sink lower as the hours ticked by. By the end of the shift, Jean looked exhausted from dealing with Hange’s over-exuberance and then abruptly dealing with learning a new job. It didn’t help that I was particular about the routine of things, but I guess the habit goes along with anything I do. I didn’t offer him any reconciliation, didn’t acknowledge him as he walked with me to the front of the store to clock out once 6pm rolled around, and didn’t tell him goodbye when I turned to make my way back to my small, damp apartment.

I didn’t expect him to stick around long enough to bother getting to know too personally. Everyone Hanji impulsively hired for the sake of my “loneliness” left within the week anyway. They either couldn’t deal with them, my routine, or just my company. I could never blame them. Hange must be getting frustrated that I didn’t get as surprised about their curveballs as I used to. I hadn’t realized how numb I’d really started to become towards socialization.

I stopped my steps and furrowed my brows, shoving my hands into my coat pockets as I thought long and hard. Maybe it was a good thing I didn’t get surprised easily anymore. I didn’t particularly like being caught off guard, since it tended to evoke reactions beyond my control, giving me the chance to make a fool of myself. The further I delved into how little I actually interacted with people around me, the stronger that all too familiar swell of biting self-loathing welled in my chest. Why couldn’t I just interact like a normal person should? _Why is my silence still not good enough---_

“Eren!”

Jean’s voice cut through the crisp air and my thought’s rapid descent towards negative hell, and my head snapped up and back to look over my shoulder. Jean jogged up the short distance I had walked and stopped next to me. I could see the gears turning as he thought of what to say, and I only blinked with question in my eyes, wincing as another self-degrading thought flashed through my mind.  _The least you could do is acknowledge him when he speaks to you. How inconsiderate and rude…He must think—_

“I uh, I wanted to see if you were walking home?” he asked, squaring his shoulders as he grew more confident and sure of himself. “

Yes…Why?” I cursed in my head, forcing myself to add the small question at the end simply to not seem stand-offish. Inviting conversation wouldn’t kill me.

“Well its cold out here and I wanted to see if you wanted a ride, maybe? I mean, you don’t have to, and if you’re too far out of the way I’d need gas money, but y’know. It’s a lot warmer in there than like this.” His eyes flicked down towards my coat that sported quite a few holes that had worn into it over time.

I felt sick to my stomach, my heart beginning to race as blood boiled in my ears. I yanked my coat tighter around me and felt my insecurities wash over me like a tidal wave. A ride? Why was he offering to waste his time taking me home? He barely knew me, and it might be better if he never got the chance to. I also had a long, internal battle about whether or not I should accept his offer. Would it be rude to decline? Would he find me too closed off and ungrateful for his offer? Would I be burdening him more with accepting? The headache pounded harder with all of this emotional turmoil and I wanted to throw up. I must have looked like it too, because Jean immediately wiped the half-smile he was sporting and rubbed the back of his head.

“Um…You okay? Don’t feel like, obligated, I was just offering to be nice.” He asked, eyes questioning, and I couldn’t answer right away.

Once I was sure I had at least my breathing under control, I opened my mouth to speak but only gaped at him. Oh for fucks sake, I’m making a complete fool of myself and _I’m just so worthless—_

“I-I actually don’t live far---“ I blurted out, my voice wavering, and damn it why was I so fucking nervous? Maybe because this is the first time in years I’ve interacted with anyone but Hange, who sometimes I wondered if their one-sided conversations with me could even count as interaction.

“O-Oh okay, well I—“

“Really, though, t-thanks anyway.” I squeaked, wringing my hands in front of me now, kicking myself in my head, screaming at myself how wrong I was going about this. How awkward I was making it.

“Then it’s really not a problem if I take you. Come on.” He shrugged, nodding his head back the way he came, towards the grocery store parking lot.

I sighed, defeated, and knew it would be rude to decline since he was going so out of his way for me. I hated it though, I didn’t want to burden anyone, especially my new co-worker. My whole existence was meant to be a shadow, I was supposed to keep to myself and tip-toe through life. I must be failing miserably if Jean felt the need to offer me a ride because I couldn’t afford to buy a coat without holes in it _\---damn_.

He had already turned on his heel and begun the trek to his car, and I found my eyes lingering on him a bit longer than they should have. Before I knew it, my feet were acting on their own and turning in his direction, making their way quickly to catch up with him. I trailed silently behind, wondering what kind of car someone like Jean drove. My first impression of him wasn’t too great, after all. He was a bit awkward, and he definitely seemed to have an air of arrogance around him when he grew more sure and confident of himself. I used to be like that…

I shook my head of the thought. I was no longer living in the past, nor should I feel the need to remember it. Slipping into the silver Civic Jean had pointed out, I buckled my seat belt and spent the ride in relative silence, only giving direction where needed. The entire trip lasted maybe five minutes, but to me it was an exhausting journey that sapped my energy supply. I tried so very hard not to touch anything more than I had to, despite Jean’s insistence I adjust the vents to my liking. I thought about how I would pay him back, without seeming to desperate or pushy. How would I face him in the morning once he saw where I lived? I wanted to pull my hair out, it was all so fucking frustrating.

Managing to keep my composure, I sighed in relief when Jean pulled into the parking lot of my apartment complex. I grabbed the door handle immediately, pulling it to open the door to scramble out, but caught myself mid-escape at the sound of Jean’s voice.

“Your welcome.” He grunted, eyes locking onto mine when I looked over my shoulder and I fidgeted for a second.

“I uh…Thanks. Really, it’s great. Do you need gas money?” I asked, voice weak.

My knees nearly buckled when he let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. Fuck, I’d made a complete fool of myself. I’d need to find a new job, maybe move town. Surely everyone would know just how… _strange_ I really was by the end of the night. Jean seemed like he had money, friends…a life I longed for deep inside my heart, long repressed. He surely wouldn't have an issue seeing through the feeble facade that I've spent years building as close to perfection as possible, I was apparently transparent in his eyes.

“It was just around the block, Eren, really its fine. You’re cute.” He blurted, then quickly adverted his eyes as he nodded at me to exit the car. Giving me permission to finish my escape, which I quickly took heed of after blurting out another thank you and slamming the car door a bit too hard.

I’m…cute?


	3. Cracked

It was raining once again. I laid in bed listening to the patter of the droplets against the window of my apartment, shivering as I pulled the blankets closer around my body. It was freezing, and it had gotten to the point in winter where my small portable heater didn’t do anything to help. I knew I wouldn’t be getting much sleep at all, so I sat up, sighing as I popped my neck. Rubbing my eyes, I glanced at the alarm clock on my shabby night stand. A quarter past one in the morning, I’d only been out for an hour or so before waking.

On nights like these, where I lay in bed shivering, I feel particularly lonely. At the very least, I wished I had someone to keep me warm. They wouldn’t have to say anything to me. They wouldn’t have to stay the morning after, either. All I wanted was someone to hold me at night, to help keep the draining hell that was my thoughts at bay. Bringing my legs to my chest, I wrapped my arms around them and rested my head against my knees. It was easy to ignore your demons when you had things to do, but when you were alone they liked to creep from their hiding places and peer at you with taunting eyes while all you can do is sit and listen to their whispers.

My mother used to hold me when I felt lonely or sad, just like any mother would, I suppose. I found my thoughts drifting back to her, back before her illness, back before I was alone with my father wondering if I’d get fed that night or end up with another black eye.

I thought of her smile. How her eyes used to twinkle with love every time the corners of her mouth twined upwards. How her touch felt against my skin when she would patch me up after an unlucky confrontation with childhood bullies. How she knew the right words to help scare my demons back into their shadows, keeping them locked in their chambers where they could never whisper to me like they did so often now.

She was always beautiful, sweet, and kind. Her scolding was never harsh, not like fathers, and she always smelled of lavender. Why did it have to be her? Why couldn’t it have been me to fall ill, to waste away? It’s not as if I’d made anything of myself, nothing noteworthy. If I was destined to become such a waste of space, why did it have to be her who suffered?

For the first time in a long time, I felt hot tears rolling down my face. I missed her so much. It had been so long since I’d seen her that remnants of her memory were slowly blurring in my mind, and I knew that in enough time, I’d barely have anything to remember her by. I’d never be able to hear her laugh or sing, and I’d never be able to remind myself of how the sound of her voice danced through the air, how they rung in my ears like soft bells. She’d been gone for nearly a decade now; two more years would mark that milestone in my life. Ten years without knowing the warmth of my mother. Just that thought alone sent a sharp, cold shiver down my spine.

Scrubbing at the tears drying on my cheeks, I cursed loudly to myself, sniffling like a child. I wasn’t supposed to be weak, I wasn’t supposed to be this unhappy, this upset. I could fool myself day in and day out that I was okay living in this shell I’d created, but at the end of it all, I knew deep down that I was not satisfied like this, and I never would be. Did that mean I deserved any better? No. I still plan to continue this way, pretending to be the soft-spoken boy my father wanted me to be, meandering through life until I either retire or die trying. The shackles holding me here were heavy, full of self-doubt, insecurities, and other, much stronger and larger demons I dare not mention. Just acknowledging them would amount to nothing but pain. Of course, I could never tell anyone these things. I could never trust someone enough to not go around and spill my secret. That I wasn’t _normal_ , and that I was _fake_. That I hid away like a recluse and have nothing going for my pitiful existence.

I also knew that pining for someone to care enough to keep me company for any extended amount of time was also a waste of a thought. I wouldn’t know how to act around them. I wouldn’t know what was okay and what wasn’t, what was too much and what wasn’t enough. I wouldn’t know how to let small parts of my true, old self come through without completely screwing up and chasing whoever was around me away. I couldn’t figure it out in high school with Mikasa and Armin, I surely wouldn’t know what to do now. Besides, I’m boring. Who would want to spend extended amounts of time with a boy scared of his own shadow, living in a rundown dump of an apartment, barely making enough to survive? That's right, nobody.

It was a long and tiresome wait for six am to roll around, but when it finally came, I pulled together the willpower to move myself from where I sat to get dressed for work. I’d have to face Jean again, that is, if he decided to come back after what I figured was a disastrous first day. I mulled over in my head what seemed like hundreds of possible scenarios of communication with Jean. Anything from simple questions about work to things more personal, like the shady apartment complex he now knew I resided in. They all ended in failures in my mind. I would screw up some way or another, and the frustration of it all, on top of not really understanding why I cared so much about what this idiot thought of me, came crumbling down into hurling what little bit of cereal I’d eaten into the toilet and crying in a crumpled ball in the corner of the bathroom.

By a quarter to seven, I’d managed to at least pick myself off the ground and pull myself together enough to walk to work. My cheeks red and my eyes still puffy, the cold, damp air doing nothing to help pull the evidence from my face as my feet splashed in the puddles on the side walk, left over from the night’s rain. I’d just have to wing it today, and avoid Jean as best I could for the most part. That, at least, was a good enough plan to quell the aching voice in the back of my head that screamed to run away from it all. I’d honestly rather face the personification of death himself than interact with anyone today, even Hange. I knew that was a far-fetched dream when I walked into work. Clocking in, and, as if a switch came on, I was instantly bombarded with Hange’s presence.

They wrapped their arm around my shoulders, something meant to be sentimental, but it was so heavy and rough that it was hard not to wince. Their loud voice rung heavily in my ears, like I was standing too close to a speaker, unable to understand what they were trying to say. It wracked my head and I felt dizzy. For the first time in a long time I felt the control I kept over my shell slip and raw emotion begin to bleed into every fiber of my being.

Shoving from Hange, I muttered something about feeling sick and ran as fast as I could to the back storage room before too many tears had slipped down my cheeks. I cursed myself at how rude I’d been, at how horribly I’d treated my friend who only wanted to know why my eyes were so damn red, and damn it all, I hated it. I hated myself. I hated that all I could do was feel _sorry_ for myself. All I could do was run and hide from everything and cry, like a pathetic child.

My mind wracked with negativity, I slid down the far wall, next to the doors that lead to the loading room, and let my body convulse with silent sobs. My breath hitched and shook, and I knew I was being too loud, but just for the sake of the remnants of my pride I still held on to, I hoped nobody would come here for a while. Things never worked in my favor, it seemed, and I tried to stifle my tears as someone moved something in the loading room. I yelped slightly in surprise when the loading doors opened and Jean poked his head in, expression quickly changing from mild curiosity to that of serious concern. In an instant he was kneeling in front of me and asked me what was wrong, demanding I give him an answer. I couldn’t get the words out to tell him that I just didn’t get enough sleep, that I just needed a few minutes. Before long, Jean had given up trying to get an answer out of me, and opted to sit next to my shaking form, leaning against the wall. He simply held my shoulder, not speaking a word, waiting patiently for me to calm down.

The loathing came back tenfold. I must have looked so damn pathetic, crying over nothing and getting so caught up in my insecurities. Acting like a damn child. Too raw, too open, too real. I scrubbed at my face and forced myself to get it together. Other people had it so much worse than me, who was I to complain? Slowly, I pulled from Jean’s hand, which still rested on my shoulder, and pulled myself back onto my feet.

“S-Sorry…I just had a long night.” I muttered, not daring to meet his eyes as he rose to his own feet, dusting his trousers off.

“Seems like it…Wanna talk about it?” He asked, his voice cautious and I could tell he was struggling to come up with something to say.

“N-not particularly.” I whispered, once more rubbing my face to get rid of the rest of the tears and sighed. “Sorry you had to see that, how unbecoming.” I managed a small, broken chuckle. Out the corner of my eye, I could see the concern wash over Jean’s features once again.

“Well if you ever decide you want to talk to someone, I’ll listen.” He patted my back and went to clock in and grab his apron.

I felt like I had just deflated. Suddenly the fatigue of my sleepless night washed over me, and I yawned. I really, really didn’t want to work today. The hours ticked by slower than usual, and Jean kept his distance from me for the most part, only coming around to ask where something went or where to find the dolly. My answers were always short, just enough to give him the information he needed and left it at that. I tried to ignore the concerned glances he kept up every time he looked at me. I tried to ignore the surging want to seek solace in his consolation. I didn’t need his pity, I just needed to go home.

Hange eventually came to talk to me, needing to relieve me for my lunch break, offering to go with me for a bite to eat at the café just down the street. I politely declined, using the excuse that I didn’t have enough extra funds to afford it, not completely a lie. It was then that they decided to ask me questions, but at least, for once, they weren’t prodding too hard for answers.

“Did you have a bad dream or something last night, Eren?” They asked, stepping close to the box I was working on to help so that I could get on my way to my lunch break.

“Something like that…” I said, looking at them wearily, pleading for them to leave it at that.

“Alright, well, I hope you sleep better tonight. If you need, I can give you a few days off…It couldn’t hurt, you’ve been working quite a lot lately.” They inquired, eyes searching mine, burrowing for answers I wasn’t willing to give. Trying to trace any hint as to what might be bothering me.

“Really, I’m okay. I should sleep better tonight. Besides, Jean’s only been working here for two days now. He needs me here, and I know you’re too busy to give him the attention he needs. It wouldn’t be fair to him.” I give a half smile, trying to ward off their search. Tried to silently tell them that they wouldn’t find anything.

“Leave it to you to worry about everyone else before you give the slightest concern for yourself!” Hange teased, elbowing my side and pushing their glasses up the bridge of their nose. I shrugged. It was really the truth. Jean would fall apart if I left him alone…though it may also be that I want to make sure he learns my routine so I won’t have to come back to unnecessary changes.

"Take your break Eren, I’ll finish this box up.” Their voice was soft, and I wanted to throw up. Why did I even get out of bed this morning?

All I could do was nod and mutter a soft apology before scampering back to the storage room and to the left wall. There was a small break room that also served as an extra storage closet for pallet movers that we hardly used. Sitting on one of the stools that crowded around a makeshift table, I put my head in my hands and sighed, closing my eyes to try and decompress. I found the solitude mildly comforting, the only other noise aside from my breathing was the whirring of the ventilation system for the storage freezer in the next room over. My solitude was short lived, however, when once again I was interrupted by Jean. I was beginning to grow annoyed that Hange had even hired him in the first place. He was just a nuisance, always interrupting me, getting in my way. I knew it was a bullshit reason to dislike him though, really, he hadn’t done me any wrong, and he hadn’t pried into why I was a sobbing wreck on the floor at the beginning of his shift. I’m sure dealing with his coworker’s emotional baggage was on the bottom of the list of things he wanted to deal with on a Friday morning, yet he comforted me without a complaint. I didn’t really take him for that kind of person.

Sitting up, I glanced at him wearily and gave a half smile to indicate he wasn’t intruding. He nodded and sat down on the opposite side of me, taking his lunch out of his bag and setting it out before him. My eyes were on the array of items before I could really catch myself, and I bit back a laugh at the fact that his sandwich had no edges. Simply the middle of the bread, and soon bitter memories of my childhood came back to my mind. I must have scowled openly, because Jean’s eyes snapped right to mine and he gave a disgruntled snort.

“What?” Jean muttered through a mouthful of sandwich, eyes on mine while he chewed loudly. I grimaced, raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing, I just...I figured you just looked like a horse. I didn’t know you ate like one too.” The words were out before I could stop myself. For some reason I needed to joke and I was mentally screaming at myself for it. _What the fuck! That was so uncalled for—_

My thoughts halted as Jean let out a snort and shook his head, laughing through his closed mouth. I raised an eyebrow in confusion, having expected him to get upset or angry at such a rude comment, but that never came. Instead, he mimicked wiping a tear from his eye before setting his sandwich down and swallowing.

“I figured there was a snarky side to you that would poke out eventually. I guess I just wasn’t expecting to see it so soon.” He chuckled, taking a sip from his water bottle.

“What makes you think…I mean…I didn’t really…” I felt like a gaping fish, my mouth opening and closing as I struggled to think of an appropriate reply.

“I'm just saying you’re quiet.” Jean muttered, eyes observant now, taking in my features, and I felt the tips of my ears go hot in embarrassment.

“Well how else am I supposed to be?” I asked gently, mildly confused as to why he felt the need to inquire about it. Yes, I was quiet. _Because that’s what everyone wants me to be._

“It just doesn’t really fit you.” He said bluntly, wiping his face before elaborating. “When I first met you, I took you as some bright-eyed, outspoken kid.”

 _Maybe before…_ I wanted to say what came to mind, but I stopped myself, trying to struggle to find the words to counter.

“I just…I don’t see any reason to act obnoxious when it’s really unnecessary…”

“There’s a difference between being obnoxious and just being yourself, I mean, you’re almost robotic.” Jean chuckled.

 I would have taken offense to that had my mind not immediately halted all function, trying to process the long-faced asshole’s---yes he _was_ an arrogant asshole---words. There it was again; the flaws I knew I could never erase rearing their ugly heads again. I was becoming too quiet, turning towards the other side of strange. I must look like some quiet, spineless freak to Jean. My alarms were also going off, pounding against my skull and wracking my brain with panic, because _how the hell could he have known that I wasn’t who I pretended to be?_ Could he really see through me? Could he really tell that I was acting a part? My face twisted, and the only expression I could think to make aside from one of upset was one of anger.

“Woah, chill, I’m just poking fun at you.” He raised his hands defensively before going back to his sandwich, and my thoughts halted in their current train. "You'd think if you dished it, you could take it just as well. Don't call me a horse and I wont call you a robot, then." He grunted through a mouthful of bread.

Just poking fun? Oh…So he hadn’t seen through my shell. He just knew how to say the wrong damn thing to people. I tried not to look annoyed, tried not to be angry with him for almost making me blurt out my secret he didn’t know I had. For almost making my entire life fall apart right there in that damn breakroom. I sighed, checking the time, cursing when I still had another fifteen minutes for my break, deciding not to answer Jean. Another fifteen minutes stuck in this room with him, the least I could do is not make it any more awkward than I'd already had.

I put my head back in my hands and sighed, trying to decompress once again. I could feel Jean’s eyes on me every now and then. Once again I’d made things strained between us. Taking things too literally, freaking out over nothing too easily. What a pathetic mess I was.

“So,” Jeans words jolted through the silence and my head snapped up, looking straight at him, “Where’s your lunch?”

I paused, blinking for a moment and then glancing down at Jean’s half-eaten sandwich.

“Oh…I uh…I’m not hungry right now.” I said softly, dropping a hand to rub at my stomach through my shirt. I could feel my ribs jutting out, tracing over them and shivering lightly. I never ate enough, but I wasn't sickly thin. I made sure that I at least didn't starve to death.

“That’s nonsense, you should eat something so you can get through the next, what, three or four hours of our shift?” Jean reached into his bag and took out an orange, rolling it towards me to knock against my elbow still on the table.

I grabbed it before it fell and held it up, looking over it. It might not hurt to eat it…and I certainly didn’t want to seem rude. Once again Jean was helping me and all I could do is squirm and fuck up.

“Thanks…I guess you’re right.” I muttered, beginning to peel the orange with my thumb, eating half of it as the rest of our break passed in silence.

My eyes would flick up every now and then to look at Jean, who kept his eyes trained on his phone while he finished off his sandwich. I didn’t know why I felt the urge to keep looking at him, but I did, and he didn’t seem to mind. I let my mind wander into the idea of maybe spending more time getting to know Jean. I longed so badly for company, but the thought was immediately shut down.

_You can’t even treat Hange like a proper friend, what makes you think you’ll be any more successful with him?_

I sighed and gave up on the idea, my eyes once more glued to the table while I ate through the orange. Glancing at the time, I stood and tossed the peel into the trash by the door. Jean looked up and raised an eyebrow.

“Oh hey, if you want I can take you home again today.” He offered, and I could feel his eyes on me once my back was turned towards him, my hand shaking on the door knob.

“Uh…sure. Sounds good.” I said, and yanked the door open as fast as I possibly could.

Maybe I really could get to know him better…


	4. Outlier

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops, a lot of foul language in this chapter, fair warning. Also, thanks for all the Kudos, it means a lot to see them :)

The rain had decided to return again once my hell of a shift was over. Standing outside the grocery store entrance, waiting for Jean to pull his car around, I sighed. I had tried to insist that I could walk home just fine while the two of us clocked out, but my opposition was swiftly silenced by the time we made it to the sliding doors of the store front. He gave me a shit eating grin and I gave him a defeated nod as he promised to be quick and pull the car out front.

“Just wait here.” He said before turning to grab his keys.

“What difference does it make? You’re still going to get wet…” I pointed out, trying not to sound accusing.

“I-I’m just, fuck where are my keys?” He searched around for a second before letting out a groan of relief finding they’d just fallen on Hange’s desk. “There they are…I’m just preserving my seats. Don’t think too much into it.” He looked over his shoulder at me with a hint of a blush before heading for the doors. “Just stand out front under the canopy and wait for me.”

I thought it was a dumb reason, since he was going to get wet anyway. No matter if I was sopping wet or not, his side of the car would still get soaked…kinda defeated the purpose of “preserving his seats”, or so his excuse was. It wasn’t my car though, and I really ought not to complain about anything when he was going so out of his way for me again. I could only nod numbly and watch him as he ducked into the rain and ran towards the side parking lot.

Looking up into the canopy that hung over the store’s entrance, I traced my eyes along the many spider webs that called the frayed fabric and net of metal supports home. They seemed quaint to me, a perfect vantage point to watch patrons come and go. I wonder how many stories those spiders could tell of all the people they’d seen.

The beep of a car horn pulled my attention away from the spiders, jumping slightly, I felt a burn of a blush on my cheeks for being caught daydreaming red-handed. How inconsiderate of me, standing there dallying off about fucking _spiders telling stories_ while Jean waited soaked to the bone in his car. I jogged over, throwing open the door and slipping inside. The door closed a bit harder than I intended and I immediately deflated again, my head in my hands as I refused to bring my eyes to Jean. I was not going to cry again in front of him.

“Sorry…” I muttered, letting out a breath of air I didn’t know I was holding and sat back in my seat, eyes trained on the scene outside my window, watching Hange struggle to close the worn out automatic doors.

“It’s fine…what were you looking at?” He asked curiously, eyes not leaving my face, the car still in park.

“Nothing…I just…I noticed Hange needs to maybe replace the canopy fabric. It’s looking a little weathered.” I almost whispered, pleading to whatever deity was up there that he wouldn’t keep talking and just drive me to my damn apartment already. I wanted nothing more than to curl up and cry in my bed _like the childish freak I am._

“Yeah, it looks pretty worn out.” He grunted, throwing the car in gear and driving now.

For the most part, the ride was silent, neither Jean or I speaking just like the first time he’d driven me home. I wasn’t complaining, though, in fact, I was overjoyed. My hopes were dashed once again, because as soon as we got to my apartment complex, Jean turned to look at me with a concerned expression, trying to find the words he wanted to say. I bit my tongue and held my breath.

“So…About this morning---” He started, cut off quickly by my panicked voice.

“---How about we not, I don’t want to talk about it. Thank you for the ride, sorry you had to deal with me this morning. I really should be going---“ I was reaching for the door handle, ready to make my escape once again, but his sharp voice cut through me like ice, freezing my body and forcing me still to hear him out.

“That’s fine! That’s fine, really, I wasn’t trying to pry I just wanted to make sure you knew that, um…That the offer still stands.” He looked at me with sure eyes and nodded, and I found myself having a hard time reading exactly what his facial expression meant when I turned to sit back properly in the seat.

“The…offer?” I inquired, raising an eyebrow.

“Y-Yeah, idiot.” I was about to blurt something stupid at that, thank god he cut me off again. “If you need someone to talk to, I’m here.” He said, then scrambled through his center console. I watched with wide eyes as he pulled out a pen and a small piece of scrap paper, scribbling numbers down and his name. _No, don’t give me your number, anything but that. Don’t let me keep making mistakes._

“Jean I—“ I started as he pressed the small slip of paper into my hand.

“Anytime.” He blushed and adverted his eyes. “I-I mean, call anytime, if you need to. I’m just…I don’t live far.” He said, rubbing the back of his head.

I felt sick. Oh this was so confusing, so emotionally exhausting. Why was this blasted idiot giving me his phone number when all I ever do is make things _awkward as hell_ between us? More importantly, I’d only just met him, why is he already so invested in making sure I knew I could talk to him? Was this some way to get at me? Did he want me to be indebted to him?

My mind was reeling a mile a minute and I couldn’t get anything to come out of my mouth. I just sat there, staring at the paper in my hands, face reflecting utter disbelief. Jean looked discouraged, coughing slightly to get my attention, and my eyes flicked up to meet his.

“I….I don’t have a phone.” I whispered, barely above a breath.

Jean just looked at me dumbfounded for a second, pensive silence filling the car and crushing us with its weight. While I was quickly assuming the worst, Jean started to chuckle, which quickly turned louder, and then into a full-fledged laughing fit. I felt my cheeks burn at it, picking at the paper in my hands as my eyes focused on it. Was he…laughing _at_ me? _I’m nothing but a fool._

“Y-You don’t have a phone.” He stated, taking a deep breath and rubbing his face with both hands. “Of course you don’t have a phone, damn it all.” He muttered, and I knew I probably wasn’t supposed to hear that last thing he’d said.

“I…I’m sorry?” I cursed at myself when I felt the familiar sting of tears in my eyes, and Jean quickly looked at me and his smile slowly fell.

“N-No I didn’t mean it in a bad way---I just---Y’know. That’s my luck!” He laughed again and then stifled it, expression quickly changing back to concern. “Eren, really, it’s fine.” He glanced to my hands, which I didn’t realize were shaking, and then back to my eyes.

I turned my head away, ears burning with my embarrassed blush, and I reached to open the door.

“I-It’s fine, I-I’ve gotta…get back home.” I said weakly, pushing the door open and noting that it felt way heavier than before.

“A-Ah, alright. Sorry again, for laughing…” He trailed off, leaning over to look at me as I climbed out. “I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”

I only nodded numbly, and then shut the door, waiting until I heard him drive down the road before darting up the stairs to my apartment, full on sobbing by the time I’d reached my door four floors up. My hands shaking so bad I couldn’t get my key into the lock, the small metal thing slipping from my fingers and clattering on the concrete. My world fell apart then; I may as well have just broken my only plate, the sound of the metal clinking against the concrete ringed in my ears like glass shattering. I let out a broken wail and kicked the door before turning to ram my back into it, slipping down until I was sitting, tears streaking down my cheeks.

Why was I even crying? Simply because Jean pointed out I didn’t have a phone? _How pathetic._

I wanted to go back inside, but I found myself feeling like my entire body was a slab of concrete leaned up against the door. Tears slowly stopping, I stared blankly out at the street in front of the complex. My mind playing back all the events that happened earlier in this disastrous day, and I just wanted to fade away.

I always used to hate it when anyone saw me cry, even my mother, who’d seen it the most. I still hated it. Jean had seen me cry. He’d seen me at my lowest point, and I hoped I’d never have to face him again. I knew it wouldn’t happen, though. I knew I’d go to work tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that, and I’d still see him.

Slowly I pulled my hands into my lap, feeling the paper still resting in my palm. I rubbed my thumb and index finger against it absently, defeat clear as day in my features. Having calmed down, I realized Jean was trying to be my friend. Trying to make an effort, and I was just too stupid to realize it. I’d _fucked up again_.

Getting to my feet, I sniffled as I picked up the key I’d dropped and managed to get into my apartment without having to throw another fit. I felt like I was numb, not really thinking, not really feeling. I was exhausted, both physically and emotionally. I just went about my usual nightly routine and flopped onto my bed, yanking the covers around me and hoping I fell asleep before it got too cold and kept me awake. I don’t remember where I’d set the slip of paper, but it was far from my concerns now, as was Jean, sleep slowly taking me into its sweet embrace.

The next week passed by slowly. Jean avoided contact at all cost, going so far as to ask Hange where things went if he needed to. I was left alone, and a part of me was grateful for the familiar clutches of solitude, but another part of me loathed it. It was back to the same old routine, with the same old places, and the same old me. Nothing changed, a cruel comfort in my head. I just couldn’t figure out _why_ I had this nagging idea to go and talk to Jean. This want to clear the air and apologize for how I’d acted.

I never went through with it, though. I found myself pacing during my lunch breaks, contemplating how I would go about even approaching Jean, let alone _speak_ to him, and before I knew it, it was time to get back to work. I thought about approaching Hange for advice, but quickly squashed the idea when I realized I hadn’t even apologized to them for how I’d acted out just a week ago. They still acted the same way around me, but I felt guilty every time I wished them good morning, only to offer no respite for the way I had treated them.

With the week finally over, I ended up with a day to myself at Hange’s insistence. I never really knew what to do on my days off. I didn’t have much in my apartment other than a few books I’d read five times over, and the library was too far of a walk to make now that snow had begun to blanket the ground. I was afraid my fingers might fall off, since my last pair of gloves had finally given their last breath a month ago.

I found my stomach growling, currently laying sprawled out on my bed with the warmest pair of clothes I owned on tight around me. Slowly, I sat up and rolled off the mattress, turning up the portable heater in the room to as high as it could go, rubbing my hands in front of it for a few seconds. I then made my trek to the kitchen, feet feeling numb against the cold linoleum.

Ripping open the fridge door, since it liked to stick, I groaned when I was met with bare shelves, save for an open can of Chef Boyardee I probably should throw out and a spoiled carton of chicken broth.

Giving up on the fridge, I slammed the door shut before moving to the cabinet where I kept my cereal, only to find that too was a lost cause. I must have forgotten to throw the damn box out last night. I wanted to rip it to shreds, not really wanting to go out into the cold to walk to the damn store I was supposed to be taking a day off from. What if I saw Jean?

Shaking the thought from my head with another protesting growl from my stomach, I went to the bedroom and found my red scarf and then my favorite forest green beanie with a pair of wings embroidered near the edge. Tugging the garments on, I took a quick glance in the mirror and grimaced at how much the colors of the two new accessories clashed with the rest of what I was wearing. I was usually very particular about how I looked, down to the socks that nobody would ever even see inside my boots. They had to be matching _just in case_ I happened to take the boots off somewhere. I’d rather be caught dead than look like trash.

Looks aside, though, it was freezing outside, and I didn’t really like the idea of walking out there without the beanie and scarf to help keep the biting cold away, nor were any of my other casual clothes clean, so changing my clothes was out of the question. I really did need to make a run to the laundromat sometime. Biting down the anxiety that bubbled at the thought of someone pointing out my color-scheme turmoil, I pulled my boots on and went to the kitchen to fish through the drawers for my apartment key and wallet.

Finding both, I reached behind me to tuck my wallet into the pocket of my jeans, cursing as it slipped and hit the edge, knocking from my hands and falling open on the floor. The tri-fold smacked against the linoleum and I just stared at the floor for a few seconds. Next to the downed wallet, there was a small slip of paper that had my heartbeat surging into overdrive. _Jean’s number._ Why the hell did I still have it?

I stared a bit longer before reaching down with shaking fingers and lifting the wallet off the floor, as well as the slip of paper. Tucking the wallet in its proper place, I approached the trash can only to stop mid-step, eyes trained on the small slip of paper.

 _Did I really want to throw it away?_ Yes. No. I don’t know.

 _Why did I want to keep it?_ Because it’s the first time someone’s given me their number since high school, I guess, plus Jean gave it to me trying to offer his help, not that I need it.

 _So what?_ I don’t know…It would be rude to throw it away, I guess.

 _You don’t have a phone, isn’t it pointless to keep around?_ I could stop by the convenience store and grab one of those pre-paid phones… No, fuck, I don’t have the need for a phone, and one fucking number isn’t going to make me need one any more than before. Besides, Jean wouldn’t even talk to me this entire week, I’m sure his offer was off the table by now.

Having made up my mind, I tossed the slip of paper into the bin by my front door and made my way out towards the grocery store.

Surprisingly, I managed to shop without incident. Jean was nowhere to be found, I guess I must have managed to stay on opposite aisles from him, and Hange was too busy to do more than wave energetically at me while screaming my name. I made small talk with the girl who ran the check-out line, Krista was her name, I think, and then made my way back home.

Humming softly to myself, I sighed as I checked the time and realized it was only mid-day. I still had so much time to kill, and I wasn’t sure what I should do once I got home and put my bag of groceries away. Maybe go to the laundromat...though I really didn't want to head back out again, plus, I was planning on waiting for my next paycheck so I'd have ample money in case of an emergency. I found myself back to debating my sudden want for a phone. My feet slowed eventually, and I found myself at the door of the convenience store just down the street from my apartment complex. So much for waiting until my paycheck.

It might be good to keep a cheap phone with me in case of an emergency…and the more I thought about it there really wasn’t any reason _not_ to get one. I could even get Hange’s number so I could call out of work if I needed to without having to go in sick just to have Hange send me home. That seemed to shut the nagging voice in my mind up, and so I made my way into the small store, heading for the electronics aisle and scanning over the phones. I chose a new phone over laundry...father would be  _so_ proud of me.

There were so many options, I just couldn’t really decide on one quickly. There were smart phones, regular flip phones, and even just brick-style ones. The brick phones were tiny though, and I wasn’t sure I’d like those so much. Maybe a smartphone would be nice, but I didn’t have internet anyway and their mobile plans were quite pricy. I eventually settled on the cheaper black flip phone, taking it off the rack and then scanning over minute plans before ultimately deciding on the lowest one, just 50 meager minutes, since I’d only be using the phone sparingly.

Once I’d made it back home, I put away the groceries I’d bought and then sat at the kitchen table with my new phone. I figured out how to get the minutes in, and fiddled with the charger it came with, taking the stupid sticky tags off the wire and making sure it didn’t have any kinks. Finished with my fidgeting, I picked up the phone and flipped through some of the settings. I could set the background to any of the pre-loaded pictures, or even take a picture with the small camera on the front of the top half. Neat. I don’t know what I’d take a picture of, and so I just settled on the “autumn dream” picture since it was cold outside and I liked it the best. Sighing, I quickly got bored with the game of snake that the phone had and looked into the contact storage. There was nothing there, and I bit my lip to try and ward off the lonely shadow that threatened to wrap over me.  I didn’t have anyone to talk to, anyway, so why was this making me upset?

Then I remembered. I still had Jean’s number, just in the bin. Slowly, I turned in my seat, the chair giving an audible groan at my shifting weight, and looked at the rubbish bin by the door. Should I put Jean’s number in my new phone? I mean, It’s good to have your co-worker’s numbers, right? For shift covering purposes and the like. Slowly, I stood, the chair’s legs scraping the old linoleum as I pushed it away with the backs of my legs, and went over to the trash where the offending piece of paper that had been plaguing my mind all day still lay. Reaching in with a scowl of disgust, I picked up the paper and examined the scrawled numbers and name adorning it. Jean really did have some neat handwriting. I would have mistaken it for a woman’s if I didn’t know any better.

Taking my phone, I entered the numbers into a new contact for Jean and tossed the slip of paper again. Now the question was whether I should text him or not. It’d be good if I let him know I had a phone now, just in case he needed to get in touch with me. Biting my lip, I pressed his contact icon and debated whether I should text or call. He’d be at work, so it’d be rude to call…right? I opted for texting, pressing the appropriate keys and attempting my first text.

It was a lot harder than I thought. I’d never had a cell phone in my life, but from watching the way Jean used his smart phone, I thought all I had to do was press the number that had the right letter underneath it. This attempt managed to spell out “Gdjjm”, and I quickly deleted it. That wasn’t right…was I doing something wrong?

Trying the same method once more, I fucked up again, but this time I accidently pressed the “send” button that was right next to the backspace button. Who’s grand idea was that? I didn’t have time to think about it though, because I felt my heart stop and my mind slam on the breaks. I just fucked up, I just fucked up, _I just fucked up again._ Jean would see that text and probably block the number. Then what? Why did I care if he blocked my number or not? Good god, why was this so fucking frustrating?

I didn’t have time to really kick myself for it when the phone buzzed and chimed loudly in my hand from an oncoming text.

 **Jean:** “ _What the fuck? Who is this?”_

My eyes went wide. _Shit._ The only thing I could do was either give up or try again, and while the former was tempting, I knew I needed to fix this mess before I ended up a wrecked mess myself, again. I eventually decided to try tapping the numbers more than once, and, low and behold, it fucking worked. I wanted to put my fist through the wall.

 **Me:** “ _Hello”_

I smirked triumphantly at the damned phone. Having conquered it, I awaited Jean’s reply, and it came swiftly, but it certainly wasn’t what I expected.

 **Jean:** “ _Seriously, who the fuck is this?”_

Oh for the love of---I didn’t tell him who I was! Tears of frustration welled in my eyes, and I wanted to beat my skull into the wall now at just how big of a fucking idiot I was. _Stupid, stupid, stupid!_

 **Me:** “ _Whoops sorry its Eren”_

I didn’t bother with punctuation because I didn’t think I had the energy in me to deal with figuring out how it worked. Instead I walked to the couch, throwing myself back on it and the phone on the seat next to me. Bringing my knees up to my chest, I wrapped my arms around them and buried my head into them. I knew it was such a stupid idea to text Jean. I should have just left him be. He didn’t talk to me all week, wouldn’t even look at me, and now here I am, texting him because I’m _lonely?_ I need to get a grip.

I startled when the phone chimed once more, and my head picked up, one hand scrubbing at the tears welling in my eyes as they focused on the blinking phone. Reaching over, I picked it up and flipped it open.

 **Jean:** _“I thought you didn’t have a phone?”_

 **Me:** “ _I didnt just got it today”_

 **Jean:** _“Oh…okay.”_

Well how the fuck was I supposed to reply to that? I was wracking my brain to come up with anything until finally it dawned on me that Jean probably wanted it that way. He was probably trying to cut the conversation off, and a tightness filled my chest. Dejected, I set the phone back down and sighed, figuring I shouldn’t dwell on it too much and get something to eat. I left the phone on the couch while I focused on filling my neglected stomach, forgetting it there for the rest of the day.

By the time I’d remembered to pick up the phone to charge it, it was close to time to start my usual nightly routine. I’d be working tomorrow earlier than usual because the store had an incoming shipment of stock due to arrive. Grabbing the little charging cable, I carried the phone to my room and set up the charger so the device could sit on my nightstand, leaving it untouched until I came back from my shower. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I slipped a fresh pair of boxers on before deciding to try and numb my brain with that stupid little game my phone had. I was met with a surprise instead, however, as Jean’s contact flashed on the screen.

 **Jean:** _“I’m surprised you kept my number.”_

I bit my lip, worrying it between my teeth until the already dry, chapped skin split and I tasted the iron of my blood on my tongue. Slowly, I typed back a reply, trying to use punctuation this time, so it’d at least be legible.

 **Me:** _“Well,, you gave it to me didn’t you.?”_

 **Jean:** _“Judging by how you acted when I did, anyone would think you’d have tossed it.”_

 **Me:** _“I just found it in my wallet.. Figured it might be nice to give you my number in case you needed a shift covered or something..”_

I waited a bit, waiting for a reply, but found that none would likely be coming. Jean was probably getting ready for bed or something, since he was working the same time I was, and I was probably hindering that. I worried my lip again with a wince and then set the phone back down and reconnected the charger. I turned my back to the nightstand it sat on to keep it out of my thoughts, and settled under my thin blankets, as if ignoring it would make it go away. It might ward off the temptation to wait longer for a reply. Really, I had no idea why I was obsessing so much about talking to _Jean_ of all people. I wrote it off as just wanting to do something with the damn phone I’d just bought. I thought about how anyone would have probably thought I was pathetic, getting so excited over an outdated pay phone like a kid opening gifts on Christmas. With that in mind, I let dreamland take me.

 

Tomorrow morning was going to be hell...but really, wasn't every day?


	5. The Morning Talk and the Arcade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the lovely comments and Kudos! Fair warning for more foul language :0)

I was up before my alarm, reaching to the side to flick it off so it wouldn’t come on while I was in the shower. The sun wasn’t even close to rising yet, it was four in the morning, and everyone in the world but Jean and I were probably still asleep. Yawning, I ignored the phone sitting on my nightstand in favor of warming my chilled body up in the lukewarm water my shower so diligently supplied.

I took a little longer than usual just to enjoy what warmth I could, and then dressed for work, going about my usual routine. I took a moment to acknowledge just how numb everything felt once I was ready to go, glancing around my dark apartment and taking in the solitude it offered. I really was getting lonely, and I wondered how long it would take for that to start really affecting how I went about life. I laughed at myself then, since it was pretty obvious from my failed attempts at socializing with Jean that I was already strange as it was. What difference would more silence make? Would I start to become more comfortable with isolation, or would it continue to haunt me like it always did? Probably the latter, but it’s not like I deserved any different.

 I was about to head out the door when the loud chime that my new phone made sounded through the dark hallway that led to my room, signaling an incoming message. I paused, pensive, debating whether I should just ignore it and be on my way or check to see what it’s about. Maybe it’s Jean…who else could it possibly be?

I ended up letting out a frustrated groan and jogged back to my room, ripping the device from the charger and then jogging back out the door. I’ll check it on the way to work, I don’t have time to dwell on stupid shit.

Cursing as I fiddled with the stupid deadbolt that liked to stick in the freezing cold, I managed to get my key to turn and ripped it from the lock. It was four thirty in the morning now, and I had to be to work by five. While I had plenty of time, I liked to get there earlier on truck deliveries just in case they were early, just so the drivers didn’t have to wait so long for me.

Getting down the stairs, I stopped a moment to flip open the phone and re-adjust my scarf before heading off to work. It was a text from Jean, and just as soon as I’d started walking, I stopped again.

**Jean:** _Need a ride? Its early as fuck and freezing._

I inwardly sighed. Once again, here he was, offering to help me when I didn’t really need it. I was tempted to decline when another text chimed and I cursed again, fumbling with the phone to try and turn the damn ringer down.

 **Jean** : _I’m here, just come up to the door when you’re outside._

Well so much for declining. I looked up from the phone, closing it, and then around the parking lot, spotting the dimmed tail lights and exhaust visibly rising from the back of the silver Civic. Slipping the phone in the pocket holding my wallet, I made my way to the passenger’s side and opened the door, peering in at Jean and fidgeting a moment before speaking.

“H-Hey, uh, you really didn’t have to do this.” I murmured, unsure if I should get in yet or not. He hadn’t invited me.

“Shut up and get in the damn car, its fucking freezing.” He grumped, and I did exactly as I was told. The door slamming behind me and my seat buckled before he could blink twice.

Once the overhead lights dimmed, and the car grew dark, I let out a breath and tried to stifle my shivering, grateful for the welcomed heat of the vents. Silence blanketed around us, and for the first time in a long time, it didn’t bring the tension to my shoulders and neck like it usually does. I found myself looking at Jean’s silhouette, his hands lingering on the wheel, and he seemed to be looking down toward the gear shift.

“So…” He started, and I coughed involuntarily, halting his words. _Fuck_.

“S-Sorry—I uh, itch in my throat. T-Thanks for the ride…again.” I said, the short-lived tension-free feeling ebbed away, and soon my shoulders hunched as my muscles tensed hard as bone.

“Why do you apologize over everything? You just coughed. I wouldn’t offer to take you if it was a burden or a hindrance, so keep your thank you’s to yourself.” His voice was rasped with exhaustion, and I could tell now that his eyes were on me, his head tilted up and I could barely make out the iris of his eye’s soft glint in the limited light offered from the headlights I hadn’t realized he’d flicked on.

“I’m….” I hesitated, thinking over what to say, my chest getting tight now, afraid I might have offended him in some way or another. That numb feeling was still there though, and it oddly helped keep the sharpness of my concealed emotions dulled. Jean only chuckled and sighed, reversing the car and then putting it into drive. Everything seemed to be moving slow in my mind and I couldn’t quite tell why…Probably just exhaustion mixed with the early hour.

“I’m playing with you. But really, don’t apologize. I meant what I said, it’s not a problem to take you. If it’s anything to you, you’re on the way anyway.” He glanced at me as he pulled to the junction of my apartment complex’s parking lot and the main avenue.

I only nodded and swallowed the lump in my throat that had been bubbling, leaning back in my seat as I found it was quite warm. I smiled softly, glancing at him every now and then. A question I’d been wanting to ask him nipping at my tongue, urging me to speak even though my mind screamed for me to stay quiet.

For the first time in eight years, I told that voice to shut the fuck up.

“Why are you so nice to me?” I asked, my voice more strained than I’d liked for it to be, but oh well, no turning back now.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” He said immediately, as if the question I was asking was as simple as his answer.

“N-No I mean…Why do you go out of your way for me like this? Taking me home, taking me to work. G-Giving me your number?” I bit my lip now. Maybe I’d said too much, noticing a frown forming on his lips as he pulled into the store parking lot. The voice was slipping back, managing to seep past the cracks in the temporary cage I’d made around it.

_Should have kept your damn mouth shut._

“I told you, it’s not out of the way. The number thing…Well…” he rubbed the back of his neck after putting the car in park once he found a parking space. Silence passed over us again, Jean turning his head away from me so I couldn’t read his expression.

“Eren are you free tomorrow night, like after work?”

The question caught me off guard, and I sat for a moment, dumbfounded.

“Um…I usually don’t do anything but go home after work, so…I guess?”

“Would you like to…maybe hang out with me?” He looked back at me, and his expression was unreadable.

Every fiber of my being screamed at me to decline. Hanging out with Jean? I hadn’t ‘hung out’ with anyone since my freshman year of high school. I was bound to make a fool of myself some way or another, and I just couldn’t understand why Jean _insisted_ on talking to me when I was so clearly strange. _The outcast._

“I mean, you don’t have to.” He wasn’t cocky this time, just sure of himself. I could see it in the way his eyes glinted in the light when he looked over my face, searching for a hint of the answer I was going to give, or maybe hoping to be able to anticipate the answer he wanted to hear.

“I uh…Well…What do you want to do?” I asked, not giving a definite answer quite yet, even though that voice had broken through its confines, now wrapping itself around my brain and squeezing with all its might.

_You’re being reckless, you know what will happen if you accept._

“I don’t know, maybe go get a bite to eat, check out the new arcade in town. I just moved here and I don’t have anyone to go out and do shit with, so I figured you might want to. It might be good to get to know you too, since we’re working together and all.”

I was left without words. He really did want to be my friend. All I could think was _Is this guy fucking insane?_ What good would getting to know me do? I worried my lip again and sighed, leaning back into my seat and staring at my hands in my lap.

“I’m not all that interesting...” The voice growled, daring me to continue. _Shut up._

 “A-And if you’re looking for someone to guide you around the city,” _shut up,_

 _“_ the only places I’m familiar with is this small area here, around my apartment,” _shut up_ , _you’re making a mistake,_ “I don’t get out much except for the library that’s a bit further away.”

  _SHUT UP!_

“That’s alright…Really Eren, I just want company. I understand if you decline though.” His voice sounded so vulnerable, and it made my fucking head want to implode.

My hands were shaking, my breathing began to pick up and I could feel the blood pounding in my ears, muffling Jean’s voice. Somehow I managed to make out what he said, which made my vision fog, and my head spin.

“A-Alright.” I managed, wanting to gasp for air because I felt like I was _drowning_ in this fucking car. I had to get out, I had to get a breath of fresh air and get away from Jean so I could process my thoughts and _calm the fuck down._

He smiled at that, and then rose a curious eyebrow.

“You alright?”

“Peachy.”

“Ready to get to work?”

“Yes.”

I gasped and threw open the door, putting my hands over my head after closing it behind me and fighting back the want to throw up. Jean lingered by the car door, and I could feel his fucking eyes on my back. _Just go away, leave me the fuck alone for five fucking minutes!_

“You sure you’re okay?”

No, I’m on the verge of a fucking panic attack, I’m not fucking okay. Of course, I can’t say this, I’d never say something like that. Not when Jean does all this shit for me having only known me for no more than a week and a half. Not when Jean let himself sound so damn vulnerable in front of me, asking to be my friend and expressing his want to spend time with me.

It’s been _eight years_ since anyone had bothered with me. Eight long, torturous, lonely years, and now all of a sudden this boy I barely knew was stomping his way into my life and ripping down the shell I’d so carefully created around myself. For some damn reason, I couldn’t get a grip on myself around him, I couldn’t figure out how to react around him. He was changing everything I thought I knew and making me question the fragile reality I’d fooled myself into taking comfort in.

I took a few deep breaths and dropped my hands.

“Y-Yeah. Just don’t like crowded spaces too much.” I said shakily.

Jean stood for a second, seeming to think over my response before shrugging and nodding.

 “I’m gonna head in. I guess I’ll meet you inside.”

I nodded, and with that, Jean was walking away and I was left alone. I chose to focus on how dark the parking lot was. I focused on the birds just beginning to wake up and sing their morning songs, and the street lamps shutting off as dawn approached. It must be close to five, now, and I needed to get inside soon to clock in. I cleared my head and made sure I’d be okay, letting that familiar numb feeling flow through me as I accepted what I’d done in the car and made temporary peace with the fact that Jean might not ever talk to me again after tomorrow night.

With that, I turned. Heading into the store and clocking in, getting my work gloves on and setting about unloading boxes from the back of the semi that had pulled into the much too tiny loading bay.

Work passed quickly, and before I knew it, Hange was in the back storage room with two envelopes in hand.

“Payday!” They chimed, shoving the envelopes into our hands, crumpling them slightly.

“Thanks…” I muttered, looking up at them with a small smile, which was quickly returned with a ruffle of my mop of hair before they turned to Jean.

“How are you liking it so far? You’ve stayed a lot longer than any of our other secondary stockers, congrats!”

Jean looked a little confused and looked to me for help. I just shrugged my shoulders and glanced back at Hange. You figure out how to talk to them, it’s part of initiation.

“It’s been like a week...I don’t plan on leaving though. I like it alright.” He rubbed the back of his neck. I was beginning to notice he did that quite often when he was unsure about things. Maybe a nervous tick? I shook my head, not understanding why I bothered dwelling on it, since it didn’t make any difference to me.

“Yeah well, still! I’m glad you’re staying.” They put their hands on their hips. “I guess Eren was playing nice after all, and I think my boss might have my head if I lost another hire.” They giggled and glanced between us with that same strange glint in their eyes.

I felt my cheeks burn and turned on my heel to head for the doors that lead to the main part of the store, calling over my shoulder that I’d see them tomorrow, catching the pleading look Jean gave me to help him out as Hange began talking his ear off about various employees they’d hired in the recent months. Before I could think about it, I was smirking and waving at Jean mockingly, earning myself a very evil glare. I only chuckled, clocking out and heading back home.

It didn’t occur to me that I still had that small smile on my face until I caught a glimpse of myself in the bathroom mirror of my apartment. It quickly disappeared, and the demon of doubt slipped from its hiding place, eating away the warmth I’d been feeling. The devilish grin it gave me as it filed through my mind, poking and prodding at my hidden insecurities, sent a shiver down my spine.

_What would happen tomorrow?_

_Jean might realize what a mistake it was to invite me out for the evening._

_What if he never speaks to me again?_

_What if he quits and Hange gets in trouble with her boss? It would be all my fault._

Fear came out to dance with doubt, mixing into a vile concoction of anxiety and crippling self-doubt, and I felt sick to my stomach and weak at the knees. Gasping for air and gripping the sides of the porcelain sink until my knuckles turned white, I fought back tears as the walls of the bathroom caved around me.

I was getting my hopes up over nothing. I knew it was going to end in a disappointment, I’d be right back where I was before long. Alone with only my thoughts to keep me company, and I was _scared_.

I was scared to be alone again. I was scared to face tomorrow, because I knew it would never come again. I knew deep in my heart that it was too good to be true. Jean would find someone so much more worthy of his attention, his friendship, and I’d be back here, sitting in my apartment wasting away, working the same job, walking the same routes, living the same way until the carpet wore beneath my feet like a trench.

Such was life, and I couldn’t sit here feeling sorry for myself forever. I had to keep living, had to keep moving forward by myself because that’s all I’d ever known.

Getting through my nightly routine, I found myself unable to sleep. Tossing and turning on my lumpy, uncomfortable mattress, shivering in the cold. My eyes were glued to the ceiling, tracing the patterns in the decorative plaster that coated it. Softly, I hummed a distant tune my mother used to purr to me when I couldn’t sleep as a child. It soothed me, brought me back to reality, and put me demons to sleep. It offered a soft, fleeting tranquility that nothing else could ever recreate. Nothing could ever do my mother’s songs justice, not even me.

My phone buzzed, effectively cutting my line of thought off, and I glanced over at it. I knew who the recipient was, since I only had one person I talked to on the damn thing. The question was more of what he might want this time of night. Curiosity getting the better of me, I reached over and grabbed the phone, flipping it open to see Jean’s message.

 **Jean** : _I’m sorry about this morning._

I worried my lip again, splitting it in a new place and resting the phone open faced on my chest, eyes back on the ceiling. Why was he the one who was sorry? I should be the one apologizing. I was the one freaking out and making things tense and awkward, like I always did.

Lifting the phone, I took my time writing back, mainly because I kept making stupid typos, still getting used to the phone’s weird texting system.

 **Me** : _You did nothing wrong._

 **Jean** : _You looked really uncomfortable. You don’t have to humor me, you know. We don’t have to hang out if you don’t want to._

I furrowed my brow at his response. Why was he second guessing things? I’d said okay, hadn’t I? Oh fuck, had I come off too strangely? Did I look off-put by the request? Had I made things uncomfortable?

Doubt, doubt, doubt. That’s all my mind ever was, and it was exhausting. Questions upon questions filling my head to the point of being unable to see straight and my world started to spin. I wanted to throw up again.

 **Me** : _I want to hang out with you._

That was bold, especially for me. Was it the truth though? Probably. A part of me did want to go, longed for it actually. It was just that voice that always made me second guess how I felt that managed to coax doubt in my mind.

 **Jean** : _I’ll pick you up at seven then?_

 **Me** : _Sounds good._

 **Jean** : _Cool. See you tomorrow, then?_

 **Me** : _Yeah, see you soon._

I didn’t get a reply, but it didn’t upset me. Really that was sort of the end of the conversation anyway. Dinner and the arcade? I hadn’t played video games since…well since freshman year of high school. This might be fun. It might be interesting. _It might go horribly wrong._

I felt more drained now. It was funny how talking to Jean did that to me. Just the amount of energy it took to think of appropriate replies and answers, the effort it took to make sure I was holding my expression well, masking my raw emotion with subtle and appropriate feelings, sapped me of anything and everything I had. Why I put so much effort into this stupid friendship that will never hold up, I had no idea, but I did know that it was beginning to bring about a new, very unfamiliar feeling.

 

I was starting to feel... optimistic. I didn’t dwell to long on this new slice of knowledge, simply turning over and struggling to get myself to sleep. I’d need my rest if I was going to make it through tomorrow.

 

As per usual, work the next day was uneventful. Jean and I didn’t really talk much, which didn’t help me gauge how the rest of the night was going to go at all, leaving me full of unanswered questions and hollowing anxiety.

Clocking out, Jean came into Hange’s office and picked up his keys, eyes on me right after.

“Hey, uh…S-So, seven is okay?” He asked hesitantly, and I swallowed hard.

“Yeah, seven’s good.” I couldn’t meet his eyes, but I knew he hadn’t really noticed since he was preoccupied with digging through his bag. Probably looking for his phone.

“Alright, um. I’ll text you when I get to your complex?” His eyes glinted with that stupid confident thing he did and I felt my stomach flatten out when my eyes met his.

“Mm, I’ll be ready early, so just come whenever.” I said softly, offering a slight smile, making my way to the door.

He didn’t say anything more, and so I made my way home, getting into the apartment and tossing my wallet on the table next to the paycheck that I still had to cash. I had other things to dwell on, now, and I found myself in front of my closet, digging through it to find something halfway decent to wear for this little night excursion I’d signed up for.

Nothing seemed to want to come together for me. The only shirts that didn’t have some kind of stain or hole in it was my pinstripe, navy blue button down, or my blue checked flannel. The button down was way to fucking formal, this wasn’t a date, after all, and the checked flannel didn’t go well with the only pair of denim I had clean. I sighed, debating on looking overdressed or like some rugged maniac. I hated both, and I knew that if I wasn’t comfortable with what I was wearing, it would set the ball rolling for the rest of the night.

Kicking myself for not going to the laundromat, I dug through my hamper for the least used pair of pants I could find, settling on some black skinny jeans. Well, at least they wouldn’t make me look like a freaking lumberjack if I wore the flannel with it.

Partially satisfied with my outfit choice, I went to the bathroom to fiddle with my hair. Should I cut it now? It needed a trim, and it might not look so shaggy and unkempt like it did in its current state. I decided that was the best plan of action and reached into the medicine cabinet for my scissors, checking for rust. Finding none, I set them aside and hopped into the shower for a quick rinse, and then went about cutting the mop I called hair on my head.

I was surprised with how smoothly getting ready was going, feeling almost like I was in limbo. Time seemed to tick by slowly and everything was peaceful. My mind wasn’t wracked with negativity, and I had this overwhelming sense of excitement over the fact that I was going to get out of my cell of an apartment for the night. That strange, unfamiliar feeling came back when I thought about how tonight might go.

My phone buzzed, signaling Jean was in the parking lot, and so I made last minute checks to make sure my blue flannel was tucked in properly, my black winter boots laced right, and no stray hairs had made it onto my outfit before stumbling into the kitchen to grab my key and my wallet.

Making it to Jean’s car, I slipped inside and couldn’t wipe the grin off my face if I tried. Jean seemed just as giddy as I did, which was comforting, so I buckled my seat belt. Hopefully I could keep my excitement down enough to control myself. One can only dream.

We got to the arcade, the ride itself quiet save for small talk, Jean more trying to find common interests than really pushing for conversation, and I wasn’t too freaked out about it. He was doing more of the talking, and I just had to answer, the perfect scenario in my mind.

With everything running as smoothly as it was, I should have known that something was going to snag up and pull the whole endeavor into a grinding halt. Jean and I had made it to the counter to pay for coins at the arcade, and I’d handed the man my bank card to pay for my share when the machine beeped twice and the cashier frowned.

“Your card was declined, sir.” He stated, holding my card back to me.

I froze, staring at the card and feeling my heart thud against my chest. I could have sworn I had more in my account before I headed out. I thought I had enough to cover tonight but apparently that wasn’t the case. I could already feel the tears in my eyes and the burn in my throat from the sheer embarrassment for being some broke idiot. I swallowed, leaning over the counter to look at the computer.

“C-Can you try again?” I asked, pleading, my eyes locked on the screen as the cashier sighed and swiped the card two more times, and still, the machine beeped twice both times and signaled a declined transaction.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Jean standing to the side of the counter, waiting for me with a raised eyebrow.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, looking from my card to me, my eyes flicking up to lock with his as I dreaded the answer I’d have to give.

_Sorry, I ruined the night because I’m a fucking idiot and thought I had money when I didn’t. Probably should have fucking cashed my fucking paycheck._

My knees and hands began to shake and Jean took a step forward, getting close to me.

“Hey, hey. Come on, it’s not a big deal.” He murmured, his voice low and I almost choked at just how comforting it was. He pressed my card into my hand while handing the cashier his own, and my eyes went wide.

“J-Jean no—d-don’t—“

“I said its fine. Just shut up and try not to look like I kicked your dog.” He muttered, his hand touching my shoulder and squeezing like he’d done when he found me crying.

It all came back to me then. All the loathing, the hatred, the embarrassment. There I go, fucking everything up so bad that Jean had to fucking _pay_ for me.

The cashier thanked us, or well, Jean, and handed him back the card. Jean pulled me by the arm out of the way and to the side, handing me the cup of coins he’d paid for.

“It’s ten bucks, it won’t break my bank.” He said softly, smiling reassuringly.

All I could do was look at him, my eyes unable to tear from his.

“I-I’m…I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s fine. I invited you out anyway, just spot me next time.” He winked and turned to survey the room. “So uh…What’s your favorite arcade game?”

It took me a few minutes to calm down, not focusing on whatever the wink meant and swallowing. What was done is done, Jean’s already paid for me, might as well enjoy the night and not bring him down with me. I caged the voice in my head again and gave a soft smile, getting my breathing under control after a while.

“Um…Pac Man usually, but Galaga is fun too.” I said softly, biting my lip as Jean grinned wide.

“Galaga is my favorite fucking game. I had the high score back in my hometown, you know.” He bragged, squaring his shoulders and mimicking straightening out a tie while peeking down at me to gauge my reaction, that stupid smug grin back on his face.

“I don’t believe you.” I challenged, meeting his eyes and slowly letting a smirk spread across my face, my heart rate finally slowing down now.

“Is that a challenge?”

“You fucking know it is.”


	6. Missed Connections

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone wondering, Levi will become a centric character to the plot, just later down the line. I don't want to reveal too much, however, as the next few chapters are going to be a bit heavy and move over a larger time frame, so be ready :) 
> 
> This chapter is a bit of filler, I'll admit, but it does play an important role in showing just how much Jean and Eren's friendship begins to blossom into something more. I think it kind of sets the ball rolling for the next two or three chapters I have mapped out.
> 
> Thanks again for reading, and I appreciate your Kudos and comments!

The night went relatively well once I’d gotten over my screw up at the arcade. After I had swiftly kicked Jean’s ass in Galaga and a few other games, he and I had decided not to get something to eat out since my financial situation wasn’t particularly great at the moment. I still felt the twinges of embarrassment eating at every fiber of my being about the fact that Jean had to pay for me at the arcade, and about the fact that I had probably held up the line, and probably also pissed the guy behind the counter off, and also more than likely made a complete and utter fool of myself in front of Jean. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t still being eaten alive from the inside about that. Despite it all, though, I wasn’t feeling as insecure about where I stood with Jean. At least, not as much. In fact, I felt quite confident that he and I had gotten along well.

It was a strange feeling, to be so sure of myself when I interacted with anyone was a foreign concept for me. I was treading unfamiliar territory, but I couldn’t bring myself to be afraid of it. I still had the whispers of my demon of doubt ringing through my ears, pointing out my flaws, and reassuring me that Jean probably asked me to hang out because he felt sorry for me. Even if that was the case, I couldn’t deny that I had a lot of fun, and it seemed Jean did as well.

Sitting in Jean’s car, I realized that his seats were actually heated, hence why they were always so warm and comfortable to lean into. Looking around the console a moment, I took note that you had to individually turn on and control the temperature for the seats. Had Jean been turning mine on for me every time he gave me a ride? Probably, since I never had the guts to mess with his console. It brought a warm feeling through my chest, thinking nervously about what else Jean might do for me that I still hadn’t noticed.

I felt something twinge in my chest as my eyes flicked up to look over Jean as he drove me home. He was currently going on and on about another night at the arcade, just so he could “show my sorry ass who’s really king at Galaga,” but I had hardly been listening. I could only smile, my mind far from the arcade now as I began to dwell on just what exactly Jean did to me when I spent any amount of time with him.

For one thing I couldn’t stop myself from getting this stupid smile plastered onto my face. That was especially frustrating, since I didn’t really know _why_ I was smiling. Maybe it was over the fact that Jean was nice to me, and made an effort to interact with me despite my pushing him away. I also noticed that when I was around him, the voices of those demons didn’t quite seem so loud. I didn’t feel suffocated unless he asked me something too personal or did something for me when he didn’t need to, and I found that I could actually _relax_ around him if I wasn’t too uncomfortable.

Don’t get me wrong, I was still feeling the anxiety that bubbled under my skin every time he looked at me, or his voice picked up a little too loud, or when he offered me to adjust the seat and vents to my comfort for the second time that night. It was all still so new, so raw, so _fresh_. Deep in my mind I knew that dark thought that stirred within was right. It was black and oozing in its filth, slowly tainting the part of me that felt optimistic about my friendship with Jean, whispering to me that this was temporary, that he would see through my walls and find out _who I really was_ and leave me high and dry.

I couldn’t ignore the thought and it threatened to bring tears to my eyes. Blinking rapidly in an attempt to urge the tears away, I jumped slightly and went ridged as Jean said my name, asking for my attention.

“Were you listening to any of that?” He asked, quirking a brow like he always did and looking at me with a skeptical eye.

“I…no. Sorry, I-I just.” I felt myself choke up. Here comes another fuck up to ruin the day by yours truly. Why do I do this to myself? I’d been fucking daydreaming again and rudely ignored Jean during his tirade. Over what? Feigned happiness and overwhelming doubt clashing in my mind like it always does.

“Are you okay? I mean, ever since the incident at the cash register, you’ve been a bit distant. Still caught up about that? Really Eren, I told you its---“

“It’s not that!” I slapped a hand over my mouth and threw myself back into my seat after that outburst, adverting my eyes from him completely and staring down at my lap, my entire body going stiff.

“Well then what is it?” He glanced at me and squeezed the steering wheel, brows furrowing. The concern in his voice made me sick and I wished over and over for us to just get to my apartment already.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, _fuck._

“I-It’s nothing…” I scrubbed at my face quickly and sighed in relief when we pulled into the parking lot of my apartment complex. It seemed a lot of Jean and I’s conversations took place in this damn car, and I hated it. I hated the car, I hated how nice Jean was towards me. _If only he knew._

“I won’t ask,” He said finally, having pulled into a space and put the car in park, turning it off and sitting back, “but I can’t help but feel like you’re…scared of me.” He looked at me.

That stupid puppy-eyed look of his made me want to scream and tear my hair out. Why me? Why did he have to bother with me? He could have easily found anyone else who wasn’t such a fuck up to befriend, why did he have to think I would make a decent companion?

“I-I—um----I…” Closing my eyes and turning from Jean, I squeezed them shut and internally screamed at the demons to shut the hell up, to let me try and _think_ for once. I needed to calm down, my hands were shaking and my breathing was getting out of control. Jean was looking more and more concerned, trying to say something to me but I couldn’t understand his words.

I snapped from my tunneled vision and looked at Jean when his hand reached over and squeezed my shoulder like it did when he’d first witnessed me crying. My eyes were wide, tears visible down my cheeks, and I couldn’t breathe. Everything was slow motion, my body refused to move. I was stuck staring at him like a deer caught in the headlights of a car.

Every damn time Jean spoke to me about anything I was feeling, I freaked out and pulled this, and now look where it’d gotten me.  He was just trying to be my friend, trying to offer a shoulder to lean on. Now he was looking at me like I was crazy, and I didn’t know if I should apologize, explain myself, or run.

“Eren, calm down.” He said firmly, his eyes never leaving mine. My head was void from any other thoughts except of him.

“I’m…I don’t really handle…p-people…t-this—,” I gestured between us, “well at all…If you h-haven’t already n-noticed.” I hated the way my voice trembled. I hated that I was confessing something close to the truth to him, but I felt compelled to do so. I didn’t want him thinking he’d done anything to wrong me after everything he’s done _right_ for me.

“A-Ah…Well…I kinda got that.” He chuckled, letting his hand slip from my shoulder back to his lap and he turned his head from me. “It’s alright though. I don’t judge you for it. I’m glad you came out with me even when you’re not comfortable with it. It means a lot, really.” He rubbed the back of his neck and I shook my head.

“I-I wasn’t…too uncomfortable.” I said, noticing how his movements seemed to pause just the slightest before resuming. My mind still void, my body refusing to move, and my eyes were still locked on Jean’s face. I started to speak, stopped myself, and then forced the words out, finding it easier in the absence of my doubts.

“R-Really I was just as grateful y-you invited me out.” What am I saying? He looked at me now, and I knew I had his full attention.

“I-I don’t ever really leave my apartment, nor do I talk to anyone, so…” Why am I confessing this to him? “It was nice…to have the company I mean.”

He stayed silent, seeming to process my words, and then the light in his eyes had the weight lifting off my shoulder. I’d…said something right, because he seemed genuinely pleased with me. I was finding control over myself again, and I was grateful for it. My breathing had calmed down and my hands had stopped shaking.

“I’m glad Eren.” He elbowed my arm, smirking. “Then I guess we should do this again sometime.”

I could only nod numbly. For some reason, my bold words before didn’t bring back the whispers I’d usually hear. My mind was still empty, still acting separately from everything else, and a part of me was relieved. My body finally relaxed, and my smile was back on my face. I was actually feeling _happy_. I was glad he wanted to spend more time with me, but a part of me hurt. I knew it wouldn’t be long before those crippling voices were back.

“Well…It’s getting late. I should probably---“

“Y-Yeah I should head back up myself we have to work early---“

“M-Maybe we could, um, make this a regular thing?”

I had my handle on the door ready to go, but his words made me stop again. It took me a second to nod and look back over my shoulder at him.

“I’d…really like that.” I offered a small reassuring smile.

 Jean pulled his car out of the lot and drove off with a parting beep to his horn, and I stood still in front of the stairs that led up to my apartment staring at the spot he’d pulled from. I still felt numb, and I think it was mostly due to the cold, but also because I wasn’t sure how to feel about any of what had happened.

One thing I was certain about, however, was that I had just made my first friend in eight years.

 

Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months. Two to be exact, and the weather was only getting worse. The festive atmosphere of the city grew by the day, it seemed, with Christmas only two weeks away. I was gradually getting more comfortable around Jean, to the point where I was less cautious and scared about speaking to him or spending time with him. Every Friday night, we would head back to the arcade to play a few games, and more often than not, I’d end up triumphant much to Jean’s frustration.

Jean and I also had started working seamlessly together. He’d memorized my routine, hadn’t tried to change it, and had figured his own way into it. I was grateful, since the extra help meant I wasn’t quite as exhausted at the end of every day, I could manage to get to the library more often. Hange had taken notice, and was quite pleased with us. So much so, in fact, that they made it a point to tell me every day how happy they were that Jean was sticking around.

I had put more minutes into my phone since Jean and I had started texting more frequently, and I kept it on me now. We’d also made a game out of warning each other for strange or difficult customers with hand signals or texting each other if we were too far from one another. Some customers even had their own distinct sign or code word. If this wasn’t what normal felt like, I didn’t know what did. I didn’t go to bed quite so upset anymore, and I had begun to looking forward towards the next day at work. On particularly cold nights and mornings, Jean would drive me, and I finally paid him back for the gas that he’d been using on me.

It wasn’t all rainbows and butterflies, however. With my comfort always came the fear and doubt. Whenever I started feeling sure about something, or too content, those voices of my demons would make their way back into my ears, whispering and laughing while they tortured me endlessly with their deception and games.

Tonight was one of those particularly bad nights. The kind of night that had me shaking on the bathroom floor in tears, purging anything I’d had to eat that night, and unable to find the energy to move myself.

The day had started out bad to begin with. I had woken up late, and Jean had been waiting for me outside, which also caused _him_ to be late to work. Hange wasn’t particularly happy but just brushed it off as an honest mistake and told us to never do it again, much to Jean’s relief and my despair.

Later on, an older lady had asked me where something was, and I had pointed out the right way to go, only to remember that we didn’t carry that particular item anymore. I had haggled with myself about trying to find her to let her know, since by that point she’d already made it around the bed towards the aisle I’d directed her to. I ultimately deciding persuing was the best course of action, embarking down the aisle. I had just about reached the turn when I saw the lady standing in front of Hange, visibly angry, screaming about how _“That stupid, dim-wit boy doesn’t know anything, he should be fired,_ ”and throwing her hands this way and that, leaving Hange to stand there dumbfounded. Their attempts at trying to calm the woman down falling on deaf ears.

My hands started shaking, and _oh god_ , what had I done? Hange would be angry with me for having to deal with that lady on top of my tardiness to work that morning. I should have known better. I stocked the damn aisles for fucks sake, but I’d failed this woman and upset her. Hange caught my eyes, and I turned and booked it back to my pallet, trying my hardest to put the product on their respective shelves. My hands, however, had a different idea, and were shaking so horribly that a glass jar of olives I’d been trying to put on the shelf had slipped and shattered all over the floor at my feet.

Everyone’s eyes were on me now, and I wanted to scream. I could feel their scrutinizing gazes on me. I could hear their thoughts, the woman’s harsh words ringing in my ear. _Stupid boy, stupid boy, stupid boy._

I wanted to run. I wanted to disappear. I knew it was foolish getting so damn upset about a fucking jar, but it just felt like everything that had gone wrong that day shattered open with it and engulfed me. I couldn’t think to do anything but turn on my heel and dart into the storage room and back through to the breakroom, where Jean was currently eating.

He dropped everything he was doing just to comfort me, asking me what was wrong and trying to reassure me everything was fine, and I felt like such a fucking child. I didn’t know why things made me react so heavily when anyone else would have laughed it off and cleaned up the mess. Once I’d calmed, the guilt of having to bother both Hange and Jean weighed on my mind, and I realized just how stupid it all seemed.

Jean was nothing but understanding, however, leaving to clean up the mess and put the pallet away, and Hange had even come back to reassure me that nothing was wrong. They’d let me go home early.

So now, here I lay. Curled on the filthy bathroom floor because I couldn’t handle things the way a normal person should. The walls caved in and suffocated me, and I thought I might just be crushed under their weight. My crying stifled slightly when a loud knock on my door sounded through my apartment. I froze, my sobs stifling and choking, and I was trying hard to muster the courage to get up and answer the fucking door. Probably a neighbor coming down to complain about the noise. Maybe if I ignored it, whoever it was would give up and leave.

Much to my dismay, whoever it was knocked again, and I finally forced myself up, since it didn’t look like they’d be leaving any time soon. My legs were shaking, and I tried to avoid looking into the mirror just so I didn’t have one more thing to freak out about. I already knew I looked like shit, I didn’t need to know just _how_ bad I looked.

Answering the door, however, was a different story. My eyes, which had been glued to the person’s feet as I greeted the door immediately ready to apologize for whatever disturbance I’d caused, flicked up and locked with familiar light-brown. It was Jean.

I didn’t have much time to think, however, before Jean’s hand was squeezing my shoulder and he was speaking, saying something I had to strain my ears to catch.

“Goodness, are you okay?” He asked, his voice gentle, just as gentle as his expression, and I felt my knees go weak, more tears falling down my face.

“N-No.” I admitted in a rasped voice, my eyes back on the floor as another sob wracked through me, and Jean looked at a loss.

“C-Can I come in?” He asked gently.

I knew he was trying not to be pushy, but I desperately wished he’d gone back to his car. I nodded and held the door open wider, crying harder at the embarrassment that was my apartment. It was a shit hole, it really was. The walls were stained, as was the ceiling. The cabinets were on their last legs, my couch was ripped to shreds and the carpet was stained. Jean stepped inside and closed the door before taking my arm gently and leading me to the couch, sitting on it and pulling me to sit next to him. He struggled to figure out what to do for a moment while I scrubbed at my face and tried to stop my tears.

“Rough day…huh?” He asked, looking over at me with a small, reassuring smile.

I peeked over at him and nodded, sniffling as I brought my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them. Swallowing thickly, I managed to calm my sobbing down to small whimpers and hiccups, tucking my hair behind my ear.

“Y-You could say that. Yeah.” I said weakly, my voice hoarse.

“Have you been like this since you got out of work?”

“No.” He could see through my lie.

Silence passed once more and I heard Jean sigh softly, his hands rubbing at his legs.

“I, um…I figured.” He said, looking around the living room now, eyes surveying the walls that now stood bare. I’d taken those stupid decorative photos down a few weeks ago, having gotten tired of looking at them. “That’s why I came over. I hope you don’t mind.”

“I-Its fine…” I said, and slowly I could feel myself calming, taking solace in the fact that Jean had come to my apartment to make sure I was okay, before wincing as the negative thoughts came back. He’d seen me so upset he felt like he had to come make sure I was okay. Anyone else would have thought that was an endearing gesture from a friend, but I could only berate myself for burdening him with his worries.

“Wanna get out of here for a while?” He asked, his hand back on my shoulder now, this time rubbing soft circles into the fabric of my shirt.

“Y-Yeah…” I said softly. I didn’t care where we were going, really, I just needed to get away from this place. I needed to get out, to clear my head, to try and fight the doubt and bitter self-loathing back into their cages while Jean was here in front of me.

“Alright. Hey, I know a good place to get coffee.” He said, standing and offering me a hand.

I reached and took it, nodding my acceptance at his proposed outing. I was still dressed in my work uniform, however, and I wanted to change, but I didn’t really know how to go about asking if it was alright. I stood a bit pensively, Jean waiting for me to move, and then took a step towards the door, patting myself down for my wallet.

“If you need to get ready I don’t mind waiting here.” He said, and I wanted to hug him for not making me ask.

Managing to change into a simple long-sleeved tee and a pair of comfortable jeans, I collected my wallet, phone, and apartment key. When I was sure I had everything, I approached the door.

“R-Ready to go.” I said weakly, and Jean stood and nodded, offering another reassuring smile.

The drive wasn’t long and passed in silence. Jean got out before me and held my door open. A gesture I didn’t really find necessary, but couldn’t find the energy to think too hard about. I just got out, letting my body move and follow him into the diner automatically. I just felt so drained and exhausted. I just wanted the day to be over.

A blonde woman, probably the host, smiled when we entered and guided us to a more secluded booth with a window that overlooked the street. She handed us our menus and promised our waitress would be out to take our drink order in a moment.

Jean kept quiet, skimming over the menu before deciding what he wanted and setting it aside, eyes on me now. I fidgeted, not bothering to open the menu because, despite all the small changes that had been happening to me, my financial security was not one of them. I was still very poor and I didn’t know if I really had the funds to spend on food. I’d just opt for a coffee instead.

“I’m sorry.” Jean said, my eyes flicking to his now.

“For what?” I rasped, fingers picking nervously at the edge of the table.

“For today, it was a really shitty day for you, wasn’t it?” He smiled. “But some food and a warm drink might help.”

“I’ll just get a coffee.” I shrugged, and he furrowed his brows.

“It’s on me, Eren. Get whatever you want.” He said, and I squirmed in my seat.

“R-Really a coffee is just fine, I can pay.” I heard him sigh and flick his eyes back to my menu and then back on me.

“Eren, just get something to eat.” His voice took on a clipped tone, and I relented, opening the menu to glance over the choices I had.

I picked the first thing I saw that was the least expensive and closed the menu, setting it on top of Jean’s just in time for the waitress assigned to our table to come over and inquire about what we wanted. Jean ordered the full breakfast with a cup of coffee, and I ordered the two-egg meal with a coffee for myself. The waitress smiled and took our menus, promising a swift return for our drinks. When she left again after delivering our mugs, Jean perked up and started pouring cream into his. I liked mine only with a few packets of sugar.

“Aside from everything that happened today, how’s the rest of your week been?”

“Mm…About the same as it always is.” I answered nonchalantly, stirring my drink before attempting to take a sip, wincing as it scorched my tongue.

“Its coffee you idiot, it’s still hot.” Jean snickered, and I sighed, setting it down.

“Thanks for the heads up.”

I earned a laugh and felt the corners of my mouth twitch into the beginnings of a smile. He could really be an ass at times, but I knew it wasn’t ill intentioned. I really appreciated how Jean could lift me up from my negativity. I didn’t deserve someone like him in my life.

“Hey uh…After we’re done here, um…” Jean stammered, just like he always did when he had something on his mind.

“Mm…?” I hummed over the rim of my cup, looking at him pointedly as I cautiously sipped this time, determined not to burn myself despite the temperature remaining where it’d likely been before.

“Think you might wanna…see a movie with me or something?” He asked, eyes not meeting mine, and I wasn’t really sure why. He sat fidgeting as he stared into his mug.

Setting my mug down, I frowned, wrapping my cold hands around the mug to try and warm them up a bit. Mulling over it for a few seconds…I did have the day off tomorrow, so did Jean, so staying up late wouldn’t really be an issue for either of us.

“Sure…I don’t see why not. But you should know I-I can’t really…”

“I’ll pay.”

“You sure?”

“Wouldn’t have offered in the first place if I wasn’t, dumbass.” He chided, trying to brush his nervousness off. I only snorted.

“You seem like you’ve got something on your mind too.”

I watched him as he faulted a bit, eyes flicking towards me before quickly adverting again, and I raised an eyebrow. Why was he suddenly so nervous around me? Usually it was the other way around. I was a bit too tired to really think on it though, writing it off as something I’d done to make the air awkward again. I tended to be really good at that.

The waitress bringing us food halted further conversation, both Jean and I digging in like we’d been starved. I didn’t realize just how hungry I’d been lately, having been skipping more meals recently without actually noticing. I guess when you eat the same thing day after day, you tend to forget your even doing it. It just becomes another part of your routine. A mindless, robotic autopilot you can flick on and forget about everything else, become numb to the outside. Some people used drugs and alcohol to achieve that feeling, but I never had the money to even consider it. I’ve gotten through life using what I had available to me, and that fact remained through all of my habits.

The rest of the meal passing in relative silence until we cleaned our plates. I thanked Jean several times over as he paid and we made our way back to his car, and he only shook his head and promised me it was no big deal. I wasn’t so sure, but let it go.

When we got to the theater, Jean told me to wait inside while he bought tickets, insisting that he wanted to surprise me. When he came in from the ticket booth, he bought us a drink to share and we made our way to the correct theater. I looked up at the sign above it to read the title. Some superhero movie, it seemed; Captain America. I blinked a few times and Jean seemed a bit excited about it, asking me if I’d ever seen any of the superhero movies he’d listed out.

“I used to read the comics as a child.” I said softly, earning myself a clap on the back from Jean.

“Then you were raised right.” He grinned, but my stomach wanted to bottom out. I knew that must have been meant as a compliment, but I couldn’t think about it. Now was not the time to be getting sentimental and bring down the mood, and I only nodded in agreement. Jean didn’t need to know that part of my past.

“I guess so.” I said, feigning a tired smile up at Jean, and with that, we made our way up to our seats.

Halfway through the movie, I was finding myself in a trance. My eyes fixated on the screen, all of the clashing images and colors and loud sounds mesmerizing me. You’d think I’d never seen a movie before. It had been a really long time since I’d indulged in movies, and even longer since I’d been in a theater. I never bothered with the extra expense of cable so I never bothered to get a television either. I’d forgotten just how huge the picture was, how loud the music could get, coaxing you to feel the emotions of the characters on screen, or feel the suspense tighten in your chest.

It was thrilling, to say the least, and I think Jean might have noticed my childish excitement. He coughed lightly, touching my hand, and I schooled myself back into a proper sitting position, having not realized I was hanging half way off the edge of my seat. When the movie was over, I made my way back out to the car with Jean, grinning from ear to ear and struggling to contain my excitement. I wanted so badly to talk about the movie with Jean, but I knew he’d just sat through the entire movie with me, so anything I’d seen, he’d seen himself.

Making it back to the car, Jean followed me to the passenger’s side of the car again. I didn’t think too much about it, figuring he was making sure I got in okay. Moving to reach for the handle, I flinched lightly when a hand shot out to block me. Jean pressed his hand against the door now, slipping his body to my side to face me. I blinked a few times, looking at Jean with an unsure expression and wrung my hands in front of me. He wouldn’t meet my eyes, and there was something thick in the air that lingered between us. Thoroughly confused, I coughed and looked at the car only to have Jean step closer and start to speak.

“D-Did you enjoy the movie?” He asked softly, the hand he didn’t have on the door was twitching, picking at his fingers.

“Yeah, it was um, really cool.” I said, my head getting a little dizzy with such a heavy, unfamiliar feeling resting in my head, sitting low in my stomach.

“G-Great! I’m glad I could brighten your day up a little.” His eyes finally met mine, and a moment of tense silence passed between us while I internally stressed about how to go about responding to that. Do I thank him?

“T-Tha—“

“---S-So uh, oh shit, sorry I---“

“N-No it’s fine, I’m sorry for interrupting.” I blurted, biting my lip and taking a step back from Jean now, feeling a little smothered.

“S-So…um.” He coughed, rubbing the back of his head again.

“W-We should uh, do something like this again sometime.” He gave a half smile, looking incredibly uncomfortable. I hoped to the high heavens I hadn’t done something to cause it. Maybe I’d been a little weird about the movie and put him off?

“S-Sure… but we hang out all the time. Are you getting bored with the arcade?” I said softly. “Rather, are you getting bored with me kicking your ass at Galaga every Friday?” I smiled nervously, biting my lip as Jean snapped off about how the keys were just sticky last time.

“It’s getting late though…We should probably head back.” I muttered, glancing to my feet.

“O-Oh! Uh, right! Here.” He opened the passenger door and stood out of my way, and I slowly approached and slipped into the seat, buckling in as he closed the door behind me.

That heavy feeling that had settled between us before was back, and this time it choked the air out of the car and made the vents feel a little too hot for comfort. I tugged at my collar, earning a stammer from Jean about it being too hot and an adjustment of the temperature. This was a different kind of awkward that had wrapped itself around us, acquainting us with it’s strange, unfamiliar presence. I’m sure I wasn’t the only one who noticed it, too, because Jean looked quite uncomfortable by the time we pulled into my apartment complex.

Unbuckling my seatbelt, I lingered for a moment and thought of what to say. Mulling over what might be the appropriate words of gratitude for his kindness. He didn’t have to drag me out of my apartment, but he did, and I was very grateful he did. I fiddled with my hands then sighed, looking over at Jean without fully facing him, peering at him from the corners of my eyes.

“I really appreciate what you did for me today…” I said softly, my exhaustion becoming more clear in the way my voice had started to rasp. I had to admit, from the weight of dealing with the day’s stress and then the sluggish blur that was my outing with Jean, I was thoroughly confused and exhausted. I didn’t want to dwell on that unfamiliar feeling still enveloping us, nor did I want to give my demons a chance to come out and play.

He looked at me with those soft brown eyes, and something flashed over them that I didn’t quite recognize. I pinned it as relief, and offered a soft smile of my own.

“Anytime Eren…Call me when things get bad like that…It kinda scares me thinking about how long you must have been cooped up alone like that.”

I adverted my eyes in shame, wringing my hands tighter together and simply offering a nod. I didn’t have the energy for this, I really didn’t, but I’d remember his offer.

“Alright…I’m gonna head up. Thanks again, Jean.” I said, opening the car door.

I gave him one last glance over my shoulder and he looked a little lost for words. It sent a pang of fear through my chest and I shut the door a little harder than I intended, darting up the stairs to hide away in my apartment again and collapse on my bed.


	7. A Christmas Miracle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the lovely comments, and I apologize for my irregular posting schedule. I hope I'll be able to work out something soon, but in the meantime there will just be random chapter updates. Sorry in advance! 
> 
> In other news, rest assured, Levi will become a central theme in this fic. I won't reveal how or why, since spoilers are no fun, but to those who have their doubts I assure you that his role will absolutely not pertain to any unhealthy or negative aspects to Eren's life.

The next time Jean and I went out to the arcade, neither one of us brought up the previous Wednesday night. We were back to our usual routine of working and playing ‘customer tag’, as Jean liked to call our little game. By the end of our shift, Jean and I headed home after promises to see each other later that night and got ready to head out later. It was comfortable, and I was glad that even with the new introduction of having an actual friend in my life, I could still fall back on my habit of unchanging routine.

It wasn’t until Jean had dropped me off back home, thoroughly exhausted and a little more broke than I was comfortable with, that I really sat down and thought about everything that had been going on in my life recently.

I found I was having less frequent crying meltdowns, and I was warming up enough around Jean to be able to counter his snarky comments. I actually enjoyed watching him get riled up over a challenge. Things had started to look up for me, and for the first time in my life I was able to finally appreciate the good things I had for their entirety, too exhausted to care about what my insecurities and fears had to say about it. It felt surreal, sitting in my apartment, thinking unrestrained about things that I hadn’t experienced in so long, all the while still eating the same shitty cereal I always did.

A while later, once I’d shaken off the weird mood I’d gotten myself into, I was enjoying a book I had recently gotten from the library, having a bit of extra time to read since I’d finished my routine early, when the chirp of my phone’s ringtone rung through the room. Setting my book down with a sigh, I wondered what Jean wanted this late and opened the device. I found it funny that I didn't even need to check the damn phone to know who was messaging me. I only had two friends after all, and Hange never talked to me outside of work.

 **Jean:** _Hey, I forgot to mention it earlier, but just remembered. Family is throwing a Christmas party next Friday, and I was wondering if you wanted to come. I figured it wasn’t a big deal since we hang out every Friday anyway. Just let me know sooner rather than later._

After reading the text a second time over, I had to put the phone down and think. A Christmas party at Jean’s house, with his family I’d never met before, in a house I’d never been to before. Sure, sounded like a lovely idea to me, not.

I chewed my lower lip as I thought about whether I should go or not. Surely Jean would understand if I declined, but then again he knew I had nothing better going on that night, or any night for that matter, so he might find it rude. Plus, we’d become friends, and for whatever reason, my stupid over-thinking brain had thought that refusal might cause tension between us.

With a sigh I relented, texting him back a confirmation and a goodnight before setting the phone back on its charger next to my book, getting settled in to finally fall asleep. The thought weighed heavily on my mind despite my exhaustion, however, and troubling me slightly. I was just starting to get used to Jean, and now I was going to thrust myself into another very uncomfortable, very unfamiliar situation. I don’t even remember the family gatherings my _own_ family had held, let alone been to someone else’s.

I slept lightly that night, every little noise outside the window or creek from the upstairs neighbors jolting me awake. Needless to say, I was exhausted the next day. This same cycle would repeat every day that week until Thursday night, during which I ended up getting absolutely no sleep at all, and then went to work dead tired Friday.

My feet seemed to drag as I made my way around the grocery aisles, not really paying attention to much, just trying to get through my shift. I hoped to high heavens I’d be able to get home to nap, but I knew that was just a tease. My brain would never let me relax long enough to allow that, but I still hoped that if I got myself tired enough I could shut down for an hour or so.

I had noticed that Jean was acting a bit awkwardly around me. He would stop whenever our paths would cross and talk to me about how excited he was for the party, and how he was looking forward to me being there. He asked me a million questions, such as whether I’d need a ride to his house or not, if he’d given me the address yet or not, if I was sure I still wanted to go, and at least twice he’d asked if I was comfortable with it or not. Regardless of my true anxiety about the party, I told him that I was looking forward to it myself, and that no, really Jean, I want to go, and, no, I didn’t need a ride, the address you gave me is only a few blocks away.

I guess I should find his excitement encouraging. Jean really wanted me there, after all, and that thought helped ease some of the insecurities I had of whether he was inviting me out of pity or not. I couldn’t help, however, but think it was sort of odd. Even when we had first decided to spend a night together outside of work, he wasn’t nearly as nervous and giddy. Jean was usually everything but nervous, unless I put him in an awkward spot, so this was like seeing a new side of him.

Finally it came time for me to clock out, and Jean was right back at my side again, looking just the same as he was when I started my shift. He bounced silently in his shoes for a minute or two while we clocked out, but that silence was soon broken as we made our way out of the store.

“I, uh, really I can come pick you up if you need me to. I don’t want you to walk in the dark.” He stuttered, his words rushed, and he was walking slightly ahead of me, eyes locked on mine as we neared the front doors.

“Jean, really, its fine. I don’t mind walking. Plus, you need to be at the party, wouldn’t it be weird if you had to leave to pick a guest up?” I rubbed my arm. The _last_ thing I wanted was Jean’s family seeing just how…ill-off I was in life.

“I-I guess, if you’re sure.” He relented, and then stopped me before I was able to turn to walk towards my house, his hand on my shoulder again, squeezing.

“Jean you—“

“Shut up, I just wanted to say thanks.” He muttered, looking down at me again. “I wasn’t sure you’d come. My invite was kind of me throwing a dart in the dark…never know if it’s a hit or miss.”

I was a bit confused by his metaphor, but really I got the gist of what he was trying to say anyway, so I didn't dwell too long on it. I did, however learn something that made me feel a little strange. He didn’t think I’d accept his invitation. While it was true that I had wanted to back out originally, now that it was the day-of, I didn't expect him to still have doubts about my answer. Despite all my insecurities and fears, I never went back on my word, ever, and Jean knew that.

“It’s like I said before, It’s not like I’m doing anything else.” I shrugged, and he smiled at that.

“Yeah, you’re right. So, eight then. You’ll be at my door?”

“Yeah, eight.”

“See you then!” He waved and stretched his lips into one of those stupid, prideful grins he gives me during the rare time or two he’d beaten me at Galaga. He’s really bad at that game…

Getting back to my apartment, I tossed my phone and my wallet on the table and sat on my worn couch, eyelids feeling heavy and my focus wavering in and out. It was all I could do to keep from nodding off, but really, an hour or so of sleep wouldn’t hurt…. Eventually I managed to force myself up off the sofa, heading to my room and setting my alarm to go off in another hour and a half. I just had to hope that would give me enough time to get ready, because I was also trying hard not to dwell on anything to allow myself to sleep.

I managed to get a power nap in, but the sound of my alarm was jarring. I felt like I’d just closed my eyes before it went screaming off again. Slamming my hand against it, I sat up and scrubbed at my face. There was no way I was getting through this party as tired as I was, I’d need to find some way to keep myself from looking like a zombie.

Dragging my feet to my closet, I yawned and tried to find the best looking clothes I had. It only took me five minutes to decide that I was going to be the same outfit I wore the first time I had hung out with Jean. Just the black slim cut jeans and blue plaid flannel. Once I was dressed, I went about my usual routine, and, oddly enough, I didn’t feel the fear I normally felt when I left the apartment. I wasn’t necessarily dreading the party beforehand, but I didn’t feel quite as scared about it as I had been earlier in the day. I guess it must just be how tired I am.

On the way, I stopped by the same convenience store I had bought my phone in to spend the last of my cash on an energy drink that would hopefully help me get through the party. It tasted like ass and it didn’t work right away, but by the time I’d made it to Jean’s doorstep fifteen minutes later, I felt a bit more awake and aware of my surroundings.

I hesitated at first, unsure if I should knock or text Jean that I was there, rowing between being sure that nobody would hear me through what I assumed was a bunch of people talking over loud holiday music of some sort and not being incredibly stand-offish by just texting Jean I had arrived. I decided to knock, and almost instantly the door swung open to reveal a man I’d never seen before. He was older, probably around his late thirties. His eyes were slightly sunken and had deep wrinkles around them, and his hair was thinning at the top. He looked slightly disgruntled upon looking at me, eyes searching around me like he was looking for something in particular. Maybe an invitation?

“Uh…Is this the K-Kirschtein residence?” His eyes snapped back to me and I gulped.

“You the pizza kid?” He asked, digging in his slacks now and then pulled out his wallet, thumbing through a few bills before holding out two twenties at me.

“U-Uhm I-I’m not sure---“

“Where’s the fucking pizza? Aren’t you supposed to bring the bag with you?” He poked his head from the door and looked around for what I guessed was my car. I was too shocked to speak. Had Jean not told anyone I was coming?

“I-I don’t---“

“Well? Go get the pizzas then!” He was beginning to add a clipped tone to his words, visibly getting impatient, but he wasn’t allowing me enough time to respond.

“I-I’m not—I don’t think---S-Sir I’m not---“

“Dad, who’s at the door?” I heard Jean’s voice call, and tensed as the angry balding man, who I guess is Jean’s father, turned and gestured towards me.

“The pizza kid! I ordered over forty minutes ago, and he doesn’t have them!” The man proclaimed, moving from the door to let Jean through who cursed under his breath when he realized that it was, in fact, me standing there and not the pizza boy his father wanted, shell shocked out of words.

“Oh for fuck's sake, dad, that’s my friend I was telling you about!” He yelled angrily over his shoulder, rolling his eyes and opening the door wider. “S-Sorry about that, I told him you were supposed to be coming, but when he gets pissy about something he’s close minded and doesn’t really think things through.”

I only nodded meekly in response.

“Sorry…not a great first impression on my part. A-Anyways, I’m really glad you came. Here, come in, I’ll introduce you to a few people.” He gestured towards the door now and I could only follow his arms with my eyes. His house was _full_ of people. Kids, adults, elders, everything you could think of. I hadn’t expected Jean to have this much family in one place at the same time.

“en...”

“ren…”

“Eren!” I jumped slightly, eyes snapping to his as I was shook from my tunneled vision and the quickly sinking feeling in my stomach.

“Are you okay?” He asked, looking quite concerned. My mind stopped functioning when he reached to squeeze my shoulder reassuringly. “You don’t have to come in if you don’t want to.”

“I-I’m fine! Really, please, I-I’m fine…” I said after kicking myself back into gear, trying to sound less scared than I actually was. My body felt tense and my blood was rushing in my ears. Slowly I stepped forward, slipping into the house and sticking my back against the wall next to the door like my life depended on it. Jean came in as well and closed the door behind him, eyes never leaving mine.

“We’ll…start slow with the introductions. Come on, come get something to drink. You’re old enough for alcohol right? It might help calm you down.”

I could only dumbly nod as Jean grabbed my wrist and pulled me towards what I figured was the route to the kitchen. His house was big, much bigger than my apartment by far. The entry door led into an open expanse that I figured was the foyer, and beyond that was an open expanse of carpet with a stairway leading to the upper part of the house and a few open doorways. We traveled through one doorway and into an exquisite, expensive looking kitchen.

The walls I’d seen had all been painted in neutral sages and soft earthy tones, adorned with bright white crown molding and baseboards. His kitchen was open and bright, an island splitting the room from the small breakfast nook that sat on the far side in front of a large bay window.

I was tugged to said breakfast nook where an array of alcohol was arranged with a few glass cups on the nook table. My hands shook as Jean quickly poured me a mix of tonic and gin and handed it to me. I’d never had alcohol before, since I’d never had any reason to drink underage before, and now that I’m of-age, I still had no reason or money to. Slowly, I brought the cup to my lips and winced at the pungent taste, forcing it down as best I could without too much of a visible struggle. Jean looked a little off-put but didn’t say anything about it, turning to make his own drink before nodding his head back through the kitchen.

“I’ll have you meet my mom first, she’s nice, you’ll like her and I think she’ll like you. She’s been wanting to meet you. Then dad, since he needs to apologize for being such a jackass towards you to begin with.”

“O-Okay…” I said, taking a few deep breaths to try and control my hammering heart. It hasn’t stopped beating out of my chest since my awkward encounter with Jean’s father. My hands still felt clammy, so I was thankful that this time Jean didn’t grab me to force me to follow along. Nonetheless, I padded along behind him, staring down at the gross drink in my hands, figuring I should probably finish it since I didn’t want to seem rude.

The second entrance from the kitchen was by the nook, and so we traveled through there, ending up in a very well-furnished dining room. It was filled with people, as was the living room that was connected to it in an open-floor type arrangement. I stopped, taking a moment to look around at the people who filled the room just like the foyer had been.

A woman who looked to be around the same age as Jean’s father greeted Jean and I a few moments later, her soft brown eyes wide with excitement as they locked with mine.     

“So _you’re_ the famous Eren! Such beautifully green eyes!” She exclaimed, earning a few looks in our direction before the onlookers turned back to their own conversations. I squirmed in my place.

“Y-Yes ma'm, that’s me…nice to meet you.” I said, trying to sound sure, just like Jean did when he wanted to mask his nerves. I held my shaking hand out for her to take, which she held in her own soft, warm ones.

“Such a sweet thing you are, well mannered. I hope you can rub some of that off onto Jean, Lord knows he could use it.” She winked at me and I felt the heat rising to my cheeks.

“Mom, come on, really?”

“What? You know it’s true, Jean. Don't fret, Eren. He’s always been a good boy, even if he can be a little bit like his father. I hope he’s treated you right so far. He talks about you all the time you know, it’s really quite---“

“A-Ah mom, did you bring out the holiday cookies yet? I want to let Eren try a few before Uncle Jim gets a hold of them.”

I gave Jean a skeptical look as he cut his mother off and watched as she smiled wide, rattling off about how I just had to try her cookies and that she’d be right back. He bit his lip and rubbed the back of his neck as he looked around the room once she was gone. I felt myself deflate a little, taking another sip of my drink.

“She doesn’t know what she’s talking about, sometimes.” He mutters, and I let my brows furrow as I tried to decipher what that meant.

“There’s only a few family members here, actually, a lot of these people are my dad’s friends from his steel company.” He said, attempting to change the subject.

I nodded and looked out over the overwhelming sea of people filling the room. I knew I was exaggerating in my mind, but I really felt cornered. I knew I’d be sticking to Jean’s side like glue the entire time I was there, since I didn’t know any of these people. I was way to far out of my element to be able to function properly without screwing up someway or another. I knew I'd end up an embarrassment to Jean somehow.  

“Your mom’s really nice…” I said, more to myself than to Jean. She reminded me a lot of my own mother who'd dote on me and pinch my cheek, as much as I hated her for it every time she did it. It brought a bitter nostalgic feeling to me that had me staring into my drink.

“You sure you’re okay, man?” Jean asked, his voice low.

“Yeah I’m fine. Its just…been a long time since I’ve been around a huge group of new people.” I said softly, taking another sip of my drink with a wince.

“You hate that drink, don’t you? Look, I’ll make you another one. This time, tell me if you don’t like it.” He chuckled, plucking the cup from my hands and finishing what little bit was left before heading into the kitchen.

Alone as I was, I stuck back to the wall to simply observe everyone around me. They all seemed caught up in their conversations, laughing loudly. A few shifted between groups, enjoying different circles, and a few stuck to idle conversation with only one or two others. Almost a dozen or so children were weaving in and out of the legs of adults, older ones sticking to their own little group. I was finding it hard to find my place, not that I really had one to begin with. Soon enough, however, the man from before, Jean's father, was approaching and I did my best not to look scared out of my mind.

“Sorry about before. You must be Eren, Jean did speak about you.” He stuck his hand out, and I took it, wincing at the strength in his grip. He was all business, his entire stature ridged and his conversations seemed very diplomatic. He asked me what I did for work, if I was going to school, where I lived, who my parents were. I felt like I was being interrogated, and I hadn’t realized just how much I’d been sweating until I pressed my back to the wall and felt how wet my collar was.

While I tried to answer his bombardment of questions with generous answers, some of the things he asked me brought that bitter taste back to my mouth, souring me for words. I just simply explained that I had no immediate family close by and I had been living alone for the past three years. When he asked about why I wasn’t in school, since Jean apparently was, I simply answered that I didn’t have the time or money. That didn’t seem to please him, but it didn’t seem to anger him either. In fact, his expression rarely changed, making him extremely hard to read.

The entire situation with Jean’s father had me screaming internally, and by the time Jean came back with a drink pressed into my hands, I was beginning to worry that I wouldn’t be able to hold myself together much longer. With Jean’s presence his father dismissed himself, moving to mingle amongst the crowds of people, for which I was quite relieved.

“Here, it’s a little milder, just orange juice and vodka. You’ll like it, you can barely taste the alcohol.” He reassured and took to surveying the room again while I took an experimental sip.

Well…he wasn’t wrong. It didn’t taste too bad, and the orange juice cut the thick, dry taste of the alcohol from building in my throat. Jean pointed a few people out to me, most of them family members. Cousins, his three aunts, and his only uncle. He claimed his aunts were just too crazy to keep a husband, and there were quite a few kids running around whom had been introduced as cousins, far too many for me to assume they were just the married aunt’s, so I guessed that meant that at least one of the other two women had been married at least once.

I was formally introduced to all four of Jean’s older cousins, who seemed nice. They were a little younger than he and I, but not so much so that we didn’t have small things in common. I never had much to go off of when it came to mutual interests in the first place, but there were one or two things I found enjoyment in. Reading and comic books, I was just oh-so-interesting wasn’t I?

Eventually Jean’s mother found us again, and pried me away from Jean who’d been talking with the eldest of the four. She led me back to the kitchen and handed me a cookie, offering me a seat at the island while she fiddled around the kitchen.

“You seemed like you could use a break. I know our family can be a little overwhelming sometimes.” She chirped as I sat down at the island. I shook my head, smiling a little, finding it easy to relax a bit around her.

“N-No really, it’s fine. I’m glad I got to meet you all.” I said softly, nibbling on the cookie she’d given me. They were soft, and so damn good. I hadn’t had something home-made in so long, it nearly brought tears to my eyes. Jean’s mother seemed to notice, smiling a little before leaning against the island on the opposite side of me.

“Jean tells me you’re quite elusive.” She said, tapping her finger on the counter. I only raised an eyebrow.

“Elusive…? I’m not…I just don’t really have a lot going for me.” I said, scratching at the side of my head as I took another bite of the cookie. “I live alone and I don’t do much aside from work so…I don’t have much to talk about or hide away.”

“Mm, I understand that. Jean’s told me you live in the Rose apartments just a few blocks from here. He seems to really like you.” She said, her voice taking a hinting edge I wasn’t quite sure I was following.

“I-I’m…glad?” I said timidly, not quite sure how to respond. “I-I like him a lot too, he’s a good friend…”

“Good! You two would be great—“

“There you are!” I snapped my head towards the second doorway, seeing a very exasperated Jean standing there. I finished my cookie and gave a questioning glance towards his flustered face. “Sorry mom, I’m stealing Eren.”

She waived her hand dismissively and smiled at me.

“Take another cookie, darling, there’s plenty.” 

I did as she said, sliding off the stool I had sat on and made my way over to Jean.

“I-I uh…I need to talk to you. Somewhere private.” He muttered once I’d followed him back out to the dining room. Swallowing hard, I glanced at him and then my hands full of cookie and drink.

“O-Oh uh, alright.” I stammered, my heart rate accelerating as I mulled over what Jean could possibly want to talk about with me alone. Had I messed up somehow? Had I answered one of his father’s questions wrong? Did his parents not really like me?

By the time we made it out to the porch, the night eerily quiet compared to the deafening mull of music and conversation inside, my mind was spinning. I had finished the cookie and was downing more of my drink to try and get that relaxed feeling Jean was talking about while watching him move to sit on the porch steps.

Slowly, I made my way over to him, sitting down next to him and wrapping my arms around my legs as I brought my feet to the first step down from the one I sat on. Jean looked a slightly laxer than I, his legs straight and spread over the steps, his hands fiddling in his lap. I waited for him to speak, unsure of what exactly this was about. The only sounds that filled my ears were the soft chirps of the crickets up in the trees, and the soft hoot of an owl somewhere to the left. I simply focused on that instead of Jean momentarily, finding it helped soothe me slightly.

“I really am glad you came.” Jean finally spoke up after a few long minutes of silence. I looked over at him, fiddling with my fingers and squeezing my legs closer to me.

“I-I’m really glad I came.” I countered, my voice weak again, wavering with uncertainty.

“I just…I uh…I wanted to tell you something, but I’m not really sure how to go about it because…well I’ve never really told someone like you _this_ but….”

I was thoroughly confused. _Someone like me?_ What was that supposed to mean?

“I’m not sure I follow…?” I asked, eyes remaining locked on his. He’d turned himself towards me now, bringing a leg up and adjusting himself so that he could face his chest to me, leaning a little closer than I’d like him to.

“You’re really dense, you know that?” He said irritably, brows furrowed with a slight sneer taking over his mouth.

“W-What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I knew I was being a little defensive, but I also felt like Jean was coming completely out of left field with this odd mood that had settled around us. I recognized it as the same one from before, from that night that Jean had come to keep me company. 

“It means you’re dense, _idiot_!”

“Well I got _that_ , but what the hell am I dense about?”

“Ugh, you’re making this so much harder than it has to be.”

I felt a little bit annoyed and hurt at that, something sparking deep within me that I hadn’t felt for a long time.

“ _I’m_ the one sitting here confused, Jean, what is this about? What do you need to tell me?” I said, voice a little firmer now. I understood when I made things awkward or difficult, and usually I was quick to realize and apologize, but this just had me confused and irritated. I was sure that I hadn’t done anything to make anything harder for Jean, but maybe I had? The doubts and confusion were beginning to create an ugly tango in my head until their music was effectively silenced by Jean’s next few words.

“Eren, I fucking like you, okay?”


	8. Kindled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not going to lie, I've been pretty lazy about updating this chapter. So much for a regular updating schedule.

I was frozen stiff where I sat, perched on the top step of the porch, eyes widened in disbelief and my gaze transfixed onto Jean. At first, I didn’t think I had heard him right, but the look on his face told me otherwise. He looked apprehensive, the scowl from before wiped from his lips slowly as I struggled to reply. I was stuck, glued in place, just opening and closing my mouth before turning my gaze towards the front lawn.  
“I think I need to go.” I said hastily, my hands trembling. I had this unbearable itch in my legs to just get up and run from the house, from Jean, from the thoughts that suddenly crashed through my mind. My body felt like it was being wracked with a tsunami of emotion, and I quickly realized I would not be able to control it. With the feeling of that inability to control, came _fear_. It swelled and rolled, threatened to rip through my chest and made my eyes feel like they would bulge out of my skull.

“W-Wait—You’re just going to _leave?_ “

I shook my head, a strangled noise that I wasn’t quite sure I had actually made resonating through my throat as I stood on wobbling legs, nearly tripping down the stairs. Jean followed after me, his hand on my shoulder, squeezing now as he tried to bring my mind back into focus on him. My eyes were on his but I wasn’t registering his voice as he seemed to be trying to say something to me. I only shook my head and snatched my shoulder from him, backing away. No, I couldn’t get myself together, everything was falling apart too fast in my mind and I was feeling pain from a memory long forgotten. I couldn’t regain control.

Jean was suffocating, I had to get away. I kept stepping back, and he kept stepping forward. That concerned look was back on his face and I turned, flinching away from him visibly before my heels found purchase in the concrete and I took off, running down the drive and around the bend. I ran on autopilot towards the only place I knew was _safe_ from everything, where I knew I could get a hold on myself and come back to the reality I was facing. Where I could get back into _control_.  
I didn’t look back behind me to see if Jean had followed. I couldn’t, I was scared and I needed to get home. There was no other task more important than that. Nothing managed to break through that barrier until I reached my apartment and burst through before I had even registered unlocking the door.

It slammed shut behind me and I let out a sob I didn’t know I was holding, my cheeks feeling wet and… _oh_ , how long had I been crying?

I sunk to the yellowed linoleum floor in my dark apartment and closed my eyes, shaking and gasping for air each breath I took as I tried to scrape myself back together. I felt like I was being swallowed. As if the manifestation of fear itself had risen from the darkness of my apartment and encapsulated my entire being. It had me feeling ridged, every little muscle in my body stiff as bone. It felt as though something was pinning me against the door, freezing me still as ice.

All I could think was that I had to get back into control. I had to get away from the crushing weight of it, the darkness, the fear. I had to pull myself back together no matter how ripped apart and torn my seams were, because if I didn’t, in that moment, I felt like I would die there. My heart felt like it would rip from my chest if it beat any harder.

It took everything in me to start thinking, to start trying to remember the memory that had twisted at the back of my head at Jean’s words. I tried to think of why I had reacted strongly to Jean telling me something so arbitrary.

I didn’t know how long it took, how long I’d been sitting tensed against the door, but finally I could feel myself come back to my senses. My heart slowed and I had begun to realize how quiet the apartment was without the sound of my breathing filling my ears. It was stupid, now that I sat here and really thought about it, slowly calming down and getting a hold of myself, how I had reacted.  Really, I had never had someone tell me they had any kind of romantic interest in me. Hell, I couldn’t even keep a friend, why would I have experienced something like _this_?

It made sense, Jean’s admission. The more I thought about it, the more I recalled. The too-long gazes. The tense air around us every time we were met with comfortable silence and not enough to talk about to fill it. The words his mother had been using, about how Jean had talked about me. The fact that Jean had even talked about me to his parents so much they felt the need to bring it up casually with me, as if we were already an item. That weird feeling I’d gotten when Jean comforted me that Wednesday night. I had never really thought about _why_ I’d felt these strange, foreign swells in my chest all this time, just that I had, nothing more nothing less.

Slowly, I managed to get myself back together, my phone ringing somewhere in my pocket and I didn’t have the energy to look at it. I knew who was calling, but I couldn’t talk to him right now. I had to deal with the pain that now ripped through my chest. The overwhelming guilt of having acted so out of control in front of Jean, who cared about me more than anyone beside my mother ever had, and _oh god_ her memory tore me apart again.

I wished she was here. More than any other time I had wished for her before, I wanted her here, and I wanted her now. I longed for her to hold me, to tell me everything was okay, that I was acting foolishly and Jean wouldn’t _hate_ me for not knowing how to react. I physically ached to hear her voice coo to me as she held me close, to sob into her shoulder until everything was okay again.

But to my dismay, she was not here, and she will never be again. I was grown now, and I’d been living on my own long enough to know that people were temporary. The only thing I could ever rely on was myself.

Scrubbing at my face as I stood on still wobbling legs, I turned the light on to the hall and stumbled back into my room to throw myself onto the bed. I hadn’t even bothered to change or take anything out of my pockets. I just curled into a pitiful ball and wished to shrink away like the meaningless waste of space that I was.

 

It would be late morning before I jolted awake to the sound of my ringtone blaring from my pocket. Scrubbing my eyes, I tried to regain my senses and suddenly felt the iron curtain of my everlasting depression blanket over me as I recalled the events from last night. I felt numb, my movements sluggish as I dug through my pockets for my phone, lifting it over my face and squinting to try and decipher who was calling me. It was Hange. _Shit._

“H-Hello…”

“So I imagine you’re not coming in today?” They said, their voice a little stern, but still soft. I knew they were upset with me. I usually was better than this, but lately I’d been fucking up a lot, apparently. Showing up late one day, breaking product and pissing a customer off, and now I’m about…four or five hours late already for the second time. Plus, Hange had specifically asked and reminded Jean and I both to come in today for the past two weeks so that I could help get the store ready for the coming holiday sale, since today was usually our day off. It was safe to assume that despite how friendly Hange was with me, I was on very thin ice.

“I…I can get ready…” I said, sitting up now, scrubbing my face. I didn’t even want to know how horrible I probably looked. Probably fucking terrible, if my wrecked voice was anything to go by.

“Eren, as much as I love and adore you, sweetie, I’m going to have to write you up for this. You’re four hours late and this is the second time this has happened in the span of a month _._ I realize this is usually your day off, but I’ve had you on the schedule today for a week and a half _._ ”

“I’m not really sure what to say.” The line went quiet, and I heard them sigh in slight irritation before the sound of a binder clipping shut rang off somewhere in the background.

“I’m just going to write this up as a no call no show.” They finally said. “Take the day off, I’ve already asked Krista to stay late and help me get the store ready, but Eren…”

“Yeah…?” I sighed, making a mental note to thank Krista for covering for me.

“Are you sure you’re alright? I mean, this is very strange behavior coming from you. You’ve been working here for three years and you’ve never missed a day until recently.” They lowered their voice, as if they were afraid someone would hear their conversation. “Does it have anything to do with Jean?”

My eyes went wide and I shook my head before realizing they couldn’t see me and gasped out a quick retort.

“God no! N-No, no, no, it’s not--- It’s just I’ve...I-I haven’t been….” I trailed off. _What was it then?_

“Hm…. Alright, if you’re sure. Jean didn’t show up today either, so I figured it might be something related. Oh well, he’s been written up too... Seriously, though, Eren, I can’t give you any favors with stuff like this. Breaking product, sure, accidents happen, but being late, especially five hours late, is inexcusable. It’s not like I didn’t remind you.”

“I’m really sorry, Hange…” I muttered, the sudden urge to cry washing over me, but I kept it back for now.

“Mm, well, apology accepted but you need to _show_ me some improvement. You’ve got one more no call no show, and then after that is grounds for termination.”

My hand clapped to my mouth in a feeble attempt to keep the cry of frustration in my throat at bay, and I shook my head. I couldn’t even hold my _job_ together. If I lost this, I’d lose my only source of income, and thus my entire livelihood. I’d be forced onto the streets in the matter of months. My savings were all but crumbs. Before Jean came along, I made sure I did extremely well and put effort into my job because it’s all I had.

“Yes, I understand. I’ll see you tomorrow. I won’t be late again, you can count on it.”

“We’ll see, Eren, have a good day sweetie.”

I put the phone down and flopped back on the bed, throwing my arm over my eyes. I didn’t have the energy to cry, nor did I have the energy to check the voicemail that Jean had left on my phone. It wasn’t something I felt like I could face just yet. I’d fucked up the one good thing I had going for me because I was too afraid and too dense to see what was happening right in front of me, and now I’d never redeem myself. I’d run from Jean, and Jean had every right to drop me because of it.

Sometimes I really sucked, and sometimes I was just downright trash.

 

I spent the day in a relative haze. I couldn’t focus on the new book I’d borrowed from the library, and so I decided to get my laundry done. Once I had my laundry bag together, I padded into the kitchen and dug through the drawer I usually kept my wallet in for the old sock I put loose change into.

The walk to the laundromat was uneventful, the air still chilly, and Christmas was only two days away. It was always the worst time of year for me, and this year I planned to spend it at the bar. It would be my first time going out anywhere for Christmas, but really, I had nothing better to do. I’d have a little extra money since Hange was usually pretty nice with the Christmas bonus they gave me, but then again, I wasn’t too sure I’d be getting one this year. Not with my current work-ethic anyway.

It was this thought that entertained me as I went through the robotic process of separating the small amount of clothes I had brought into respective piles and loading them into two washers. Once the cycles started, I sat on the bench closest to the washers I’d claimed and pulled out my phone with the intention of playing that snake game it had.

That’s when I remembered I still had a voicemail from Jean sitting untouched in my mailbox. _Fuck._ I guess I really should listen to it. Maybe it was him finally telling me he wanted nothing to do with me. Honestly, that would make everything so much easier. We could still go about the normal work routine and not even have to see or speak to each other much. The only reason he’d interacted with me so much before was because he went out of his way to, now he had no reason to see me, and I no reason to see him.

The normal knot I usually felt low in my chest returned as I hit the option to listen to the recorded voicemail, pressing the phone to my ear and letting out a loud sigh as the recording started, bracing myself for what I thought was the inevitable.

“ _Hey, look, I’m just going to get straight to the point and be honest with you here, since you don’t want to answer your phone. I don’t know why you ran off like you did, and I’m not really sure what I’ve done to chase you off, but fuck, it really kind of…hurt? Maybe it was a little out of the blue, but I meant what I said, Eren. I do like you, a little more than just a friend, but you’ve made it really clear that feeling isn’t mutual. It’s not like I want to throw our friendship away because of this, but…fuck. It’s going to take me some time to get over…it…you…whatever the fuck it was. I’m trying really hard to be understanding, because I don’t know if you struggle with some kind of anxiety or other, it’s kind of obvious you do, but running off like that…I don’t fucking know what I’m saying anymore. See you at work, I guess. Thanks for coming, anyway.”_

Jean’s voice was clipped through the entire message, like he was fighting to hold back his words and stay civil. He was usually brash and unbridled, quick to take on a challenge and was quite fond of trying to prove himself against me when he wanted to, and I was used to it. We made up little games at work all the time to counteract our deep-rooted need to compete with each other. The more I came out of my shell, the more Jean did as well, and until now I’d never been too outwardly afraid of it. But this side of Jean scared me. His voice was hollow of emotion save for the obvious confused anger and hurt.

I listened to the message twice before I set the phone down and closed it, turning it over in my fingers while I worried my bottom lip between my teeth. I felt embarrassed, and I’m sure Jean did too. What I did was uncalled for. I’d gone and done the very thing I was afraid I’d do from the start, and for what? Because I was childish and couldn’t man up enough to think things through? Because I let this…anxiety…get the better of me? I knew better than that, and I knew running from my issues was a bad habit I’d gotten myself into, being so emotionally driven.

The truth was, I’d been an emotional person since my childhood. Before mother died it was all aggression and determination to prove to everyone that I was _something_. When she died, once I’d realized I was actually _nothing_ , it turned into this bone-chilling fear of everything and everyone. With this new version of myself, it was so much easier to run from my fears than to face them head on. Mother would have thought it impossible, completely against my nature to turn from a challenge, but mother didn’t know me now. She didn’t know just how heavily her death weighed on my shoulders, and I felt selfish for blaming her.

It wasn’t that I didn’t _like_ Jean. He was attractive, and overall a great person despite some rough edges and a few nicks here and there. I think it was the already budding fear of the unfamiliar feeling that had been eating its way into my mind every time I saw Jean that had finally peaked over my threshold of tolerance at the admittance of his feelings, combined with my own uncertainty about my own feelings. It didn’t excuse any of my actions, not in the slightest... but thinking about it this way definitely helped me cope with it, in the very least.

I wasn’t sure how long I’d been sitting there, staring off into space, but the ding of the washers I had been using sounded off and I snapped back into focus. Standing and looking around, I noticed that aside from an elderly woman and the counter employee who sold detergent, I was the only other person there. It was sort of strange for the laundromat to be so empty on a Saturday, but then again it was really close to the holiday.

I tossed my clothes into one dryer next and sat down, thinking about how I was supposed to face Jean now. I wasn’t really keen on acting like we’d never been friends. Not that I had particularly had a long time to dwell on how I felt about him, I had actually enjoyed Jean and I’s friendship. Our regular Friday routine was something to look forward to, and now I could probably count that out from now on.

Scratching my head, I played with the thought of actually setting my fears and anxieties aside and approaching Jean. Talking it out might, at the very least, salvage our friendship. Jean had, however, been quite clear with his displeasure in his voicemail, and had also stated he would need time apart. Should I wait to approach him, or should I jump the gun and try to fix things? Should I try to explain myself and maybe experiment with a possible relationship? Wait… _Was I really considering this?_

Sure, I’d been alone for a long time, but it was no secret that I was incredibly lonely even with Jean as a friend. Maybe getting more intimate with him would help? Though, there was that lingering fear that I would push Jean away if I let him in any more than I already had. He’d been turned off by my true colors once, should I really push my luck again? Knowing myself, I didn’t have much luck to begin with.

It was all really confusing, and my head began to pound at the circles it was jumping around with every doubt, insecurity, and question I brought up. I wasn’t feeling overwhelmed, however, and that in itself was improvement. I knew I couldn’t continue thinking the way I did if I was going to pursue Jean. Nobody wants someone who can’t control their fears. At least, in my opinion, anyway.

As the dryer dinged in completion, I decided that I would try to approach Jean and explain myself, no matter what I feared the outcome would be. I knew it was easier said than done, but I didn’t want to lose my chance with someone who might actually care about me, let alone allow my friendship with Jean to burn into ashes. If I could at least salvage that, I’d consider it a success.

 

The day after Christmas was the day that I decided I’d try to approach Jean in person. We were both working our first shift of the week, having had Christmas day off from the store. I had tried multiple times in the past three days to contact Jean through text, and even tried to call him once, but to no avail. Jean wouldn’t answer me, and I had to fight with myself all night long just to muster the courage to try to approach him today.

So here I sat, eyes staring at the clock intently in the break room, having lost all interest in my sandwich. Rolling the orange I had brought for Jean around on the table, I found myself getting jittery as the time for his usual break rolled around. Once the clock read two-thirty, my eyes focused on the door in front of me, waiting for it to open. Waiting on the edge of a blade for this dreaded confrontation.

Jean didn’t come in, however, and before I knew it, my break was drawing to an end and I would need to clock back in after another five minutes. It was strange, and I couldn’t shake the dreaded feeling that maybe Jean had requested not to take a break. Maybe he did take one and decided to go somewhere else? I hopped off my stool and made my way out of the breakroom-slash-storage room after cleaning my mess, orange in hand, and set about searching the back for Jean with my remaining four minutes. He was nowhere to be found.

Defeated, I figured he might have decided to head to the café across the street as I made my way to Hange’s office, clocking back in. On my way out, however, heading towards the back room to grab my next pallet of dry goods to shelve, I saw Jean hang his apron and make his way into the office.

Was he…avoiding me? A sharp pang of hurt sparked in my chest and I quickly adverted my eyes from the office door as it swung open again to a shelf in front of me. Jean making his way down the aisle I was standing in, walking towards the back. When I felt him pass me, I looked up, about to speak but stopped myself, watching him disappear behind the black double doors.

Squeezing the orange, I adverted my gaze again and felt like giving up. It was futile. Jean didn’t want to talk to me, or see me, and I should just accept that I’m a failure and continue on my lonely walk of life like I always had. The thought of going back to my familiar loneliness hurt, though, and I sniffled some as I fought back tears, tossing the orange into a trash bin close to the double doors.

I didn’t try to approach Jean again for another few days, each shift seeming to drone on as I realized that he’d requested a separate lunch from mine. He no longer came through the door to the break room at two-thirty sharp. He had even changed his routine so that he could retrieve his pallets without running the risk of bumping into me.

 It wasn’t until Friday, while I was pacing outside of the back loading door Jean now insisted on using to exit the store at the end of his shifts, that I finally got my chance to talk to him. He pushed the door open, nearly knocking it into me as he stumbled slightly, having not expected me to be standing in its way.

“What the hell, Eren?” He growled irritably, looking at me and then the door before rolling his eyes and shaking his head, grumbling lowly about not wanting to know as he started to walk off.

“S-Sorry, hey, wait!” I turned, ready to follow him as I realized he was walking away from me again. My eyes burned and I felt frustrated with myself. I wasn’t going to let this opportunity slip away. If this didn’t go well, I’d decided I was going to give up. I didn’t want to, though, I didn’t want to let Jean slip through my fingers. I was going to do something _right_ for once in my god damn miserable life, so help me, God.

“Uh, if you haven’t noticed, I’m busy. What do you need?” His voice sent a jolt through me that I didn’t quite enjoy. A pang of guilt weighing heavily from his clipped, snapping voice and it made me falter in my gait.

“I…I just wanted to talk. Clear things up. I-I…” I wanted to give up. Every warning bell in my head sounding off and telling me to abort mission, it’s too late, but a small unfamiliar voice called for me to be brave. To not give up. “I-I just…I’m really sorry about the party. I didn’t mean to hurt you and run off like that, I just-“

“Save it. I don’t want to talk about it. There’s nothing _to_ talk about.” He was sneering now, glaring at me over his shoulder as he turned partially to regard me, arms crossed over his chest.

“B-But Jean—“  
“But nothing, Eren. I just said I don’t want to fucking talk about it, now _leave me alone._ ”

The absolute venom in his voice left me speechless, standing there dumbfounded as he huffed and turned to walk to his car. I shook slightly, felt the tears prick at my eyes, but I knew it was all my fault. I knew there was nobody to blame but myself, that much went unchallenged in my mind. I didn’t know how long I’d stood there, but Jean was already long gone by the time I shook from my thoughts and the street lights were flicking on. My cheeks burned. I must look like a fucking idiot.

 

Getting back to my apartment and going through my usual routine, I couldn’t help but feel hollow. It was Friday. Usually Jean and I would be out at the arcade already, at each other’s throats in challenges over Galaga or some other stupid game. It all felt so menial now, lifeless. I usually took comfort in my routine, but now I was struggling to finish it. I didn’t want to shower, I just wanted to curl up in bed and never have to leave my apartment again. I was okay with these same walls becoming my cage, jailing me in, confining me from the outside world. There was a time where I dreamed to see and experience everything ‘the outside’ had to offer, but now I just wanted to hide away from it. Concealing my face in fear of _fucking up again_.

I tossed and turned that night, and with tomorrow being my day off, I knew that I at least didn’t have to worry about running late to work.

Sighing, I glanced at my phone. Opening it and looking through my messages. All between Jean and I, the small amount of inside jokes we shared, our game of ‘customer tag’, casual discussions that were mostly Jean rambling on about some movie or game he wanted to see. It all used to put me at ease, but now, reading through, it only deepened the hollow feeling in my chest. Jean wanted nothing to do with me now and there was nothing I could do about it.

But maybe there was. I wasn’t quite sure where this new, unfamiliar voice was coming from, or when it had started making more of a presence in me, but I was starting to contemplate how beneficial it was. It screamed at me to keep trying, that Jean was just being a stubborn asshole, and that I should keep trying to talk things through with him. It was strange, really, because never before had I challenged my demons.

This new voice awoke something inside of me that had been repressed. Dust that had gathered on the grave of my old self, long-forgotten. Fear and Doubt no longer danced with such ferocity with the introduction of this new voice, and it helped reason with their whispers.

Opening a new message, I tried to think of what to say to Jean. Should I beg for his forgiveness? Should I ask him to talk to me? Should I string him up about the way he treated me?

After a few minutes of debating, I simply typed out a quick text, simply a _‘Hey, I realize I might have gotten you at a bad time earlier, but I’d really like to talk.’_

That should do. I was confident that would earn me at least a reaction. None would come, however, and by the time two in the morning rolled around, I gave up again, at least for the time being. Setting my phone on the opposite side of the bed and turning my back to it.

The text I woke up to crushed any excitement that had built in anticipation that had built when I’d read who the sender was.

 **Jean** : _Do you not know what ‘leave me alone’ means, or are you just fucking with me now? Fuck off._

I felt the familiar feeling of tears pricking at the corner of my eyes and I threw the phone off the bed somewhere on the floor. Hugging my knees to my chest, I buried my head in them, sighing deeply but not finding the energy to let those tears run free. I’d started developing this new habit recently of bottling up all of my emotions instead of letting them run rampant, and it was really working for the most part. I didn’t feel like such a child at the moment.

I guessed that giving Jean space wouldn’t be such a bad idea, since he was shutting me down before I could even so much as ask if we’re still friends. I’d never felt so conflicted over someone, but then again it had been such a long time since I’d had anything remotely close to a friend. I just hoped I haven’t busted this beyond repair.

For my own sanity’s sake.


	9. Hard Confessions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the kudos and comments!

It would be a week later, without hearing anything from Jean, that I was called into Hange’s office. Fear instantly rooted inside me, scrambling my brain as I tried to think of what I could have possibly done to warrant an office visit. When the time came for the meeting, I was finally finished with my shift, counting the steps it took to get to the office door before halting in front of it. It seemed to loom over me, and I felt small and invalid in its presence. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I knocked and then opened the door with a shaking hand, ready to face the reality that this could be the last time I finish up a shift, as I could very well be jobless by the time I exited.

Hange was sitting at their cluttered, rusty metal desk, various binders piled high and papers scattered to the point where a few had fallen and now litter the floor. The office itself was small, food-safety posters and workers’ bulletins posted haphazardly on the grey, peeling walls. It was musty as well, the humidifier that had been shoved into the far left corner of the room blasting.

The computer that was covered in various sticky-notes played some sort of seventies rock ballad, the volume too low to really decipher what band it was from the roaring of the humidifier. They turned to me and shoved their glasses up their face when I clicked the door shut behind me, blinking with question before something flashed in their eyes.

“Eren, sweetie! Thank you for coming in!”

“I-It’s really no problem…” I said, slowly sinking into the single chair that sat crammed up to the opposite side of the desk.

Did I mention that Hange’s office was tiny? The desk barely fit, and my knees were pressed to the metal cover that separated Hange’s legs from my own. If someone were to open the door behind me too fast, the handle was at the perfect height to knock straight into the back of my skull. It was with this thought in mind that I angled my chair slightly, just so I could see the handle before it impaled me through the eye rather than the back of my head.

"M-Mind telling me why I’m here? You don’t usually call me in.” I asked nervously, my voice sounding a bit smaller than I’d originally intended.

“Oh yes, sorry! I’m changing the schedule and I just wanted to run it by you to make sure that you’re able to work with it.” Hange threw open the old rickety drawer, the metal clanking and its contents clattering inside as she dug through it.

“Wait, you’re changing the schedule? Why? Did you hire another stocker?”

“Ah, no…Something a little different.” They slapped a file to the desk and slammed the drawer shut, flipping it open and thumbing through a few things. I gave them a questioning stare that they returned with a pointed look out the top rim of their glasses. Once they realized I wasn’t quite understanding the look they gave me, they sighed and set their hands on the desk in front of them, leaning against their outstretched arms.

“Jean requested a change in his schedule, but since we don’t really have anything but the current schedule for stockers, I had to devise a new one. I hope you’re okay with working alone again…”

I felt my heart sink as I adverted my eyes from Hange’s analytical gaze. Oh…Jean had requested a different shift. That explains why I haven’t seen him at all this week. I tried really hard to convince myself that it was due to his classes starting up again, since he was still in college after all, but a part of me thought it had to do with what had happened at the Christmas party.

Jean hadn’t even texted me back when I sent a ‘happy New Year” to him, and I’ve avoided trying to contact him since…I guess he felt that even my small presence was still suffocating, but I did think it was a little far to ask for separate shifts. Was I really that intolerable? Thinking about it too long made my chest ache.

Hange was speaking again and shoving a piece of paper in my face, and I took it gently without really hearing their words. I read it over quietly as they babbled on about how they weren’t sure what type of configuration they should use, explaining that Jean wanted to go to part time and so they had ultimately decided that alternating shifts was the right way to go.

“So, you’ll be working early in the morning every day, with Saturdays still being your days off. You’ll also still be working full time, don’t worry, there won’t be any major time cuts. Just an hour or two at most.”

“…What’s Jean’s schedule?” I didn’t really care about how many hours I’d be working at the moment, despite knowing I probably should care, since time was money.

“I’m not at liberty to discuss that with you.” I glanced up at them then, furrowing my brow. _Since when are you not allowed to know your co-workers schedule?_ Rather than ask that and risk seeming disrespectful, however, I opted for a lighter alternative.

“Why?” Even that small question had them struggling slightly, squirming in their seat.

“It’s more of…Jean telling me not to discuss it with you. Eren…has something happened between you and Jean?”

“Yes, and it’s my fault, but it’s a small issue, so I don’t really know why he’s going this far to avoid me. I really didn’t think…” My voice took a defensive edge and caught in my throat as Hange sat back, their hands folded in their lap and a concerned expression laced their features.

“Jean said something about just wanting to forget about it all.” They chimed, as if that would spur me on to spill the beans. It only had me questioning how much they knew about what had happened. Knowing Hange, they’d probably tried to pry every little detail from Jean like those investigators would on the TV crime shows my father would watch. I sort of felt bad for him.

“Well…I can’t say I blame him.”

“Eren, are you sure you’re okay? I’ve been getting really concerned about you in the last few months…”

“I’m fine. What happens between Jean and I outside of work is not important so long as it doesn’t affect work—“

“But it _has_.” That had me silenced, and they took that as a sign to continue. “You’ve missed work once, shown up late once, and you’re not getting as much done during the day as you used to. I’d say that, with Jean requesting separate schedules, it’s obviously an issue between you two that very much affects your jobs.”

I slumped into my chair, kicking my feet against the desk lightly as I mulled over what to tell Hange. I didn’t know what Jean had said, but from the looks of it Hange must have railed him hard for answers, then. Now I really felt bad for him.

“He…Told me something that scared me and I didn’t know how to react so…I ran from him, back home, and he hasn’t spoken to me since. I’m…not really sure what to do about it now, though...” I decided to keep it vague enough to exclude the hard details, but enough to let Hange get a general idea of what happened, or at least my side of the story.

They only gave me a look of sympathy before sighing and leaning back into their creaky desk chair. It sounded like it might fall apart if they weren’t careful, the shrill sound made me wince slightly.

“Give him some space for a few more days, he’ll come around.”

“But Hange, I’ve been giving him space. He still refuses to so much as look at my general direction.”

“Well I know you two hung out on Fridays, what did you used to do?” They were tapping their pen on their chin now, as if in deep, contemplative thought. I raised an eyebrow.

“We’d…Go to the arcade. I don’t really see how this is relevant, though, what is it—“

“So, give him a few more days and then ask him to go to the arcade again. That way, you’d be doing something you both enjoy, and it’ll feel like your back to your normal selves. Might make it easier for him to move on that way, if you show him you’re still willing to be friends. I think he’s more hurt, personally, because you didn’t stick around to give him an answer either way.”

I only nodded numbly, not bothering to dwell on the fact that their words revealed that they knew _exactly_ what had happened. I sat still, thinking it over in my head before taking the paper detailing my new schedule off the desk.

“So…this starts tomorrow?” 

"Next week, actually.”

"Good.” I stood, folding the paper in half a few times to stick it into my trifold before nodding at Hange. “Guess I’ll see you tomorrow then, regular time."

“Sure thing sweetie, have a good night!”

 

I stayed awake a little while longer before getting on with my nightly routine, mulling over Hange’s words of advice and wondering what exactly I _should_ do. Should I even keep trying? So far, any attempt at communication has been met with no answer, but maybe I was just coming about it the wrong way.

Maybe Hange was right, though, instead of trying to approach Jean and talk about what had happened right away, I could just invite him out like we used to and let him breach the subject if he wanted. It wasn’t like I…wanted to reject him. Actually, by now I’m pretty sure that if he were to ask again, I wouldn’t run, but rather answer. Whether I would say yes or no for sure was another issue I could deal with later, but at least for now, I had some sort of hope to at least get back to being friendly with him.

 I had a week, and by the end of it, I’d know for sure or not if I’m a complete fuck up or not. It really had sucked being alone again, I’m not sure what I’ll do if Jean rejects me again.

 

By the time Friday rolled around, I had already rehearsed what I was going to say to Jean probably a hundred times. I was nervous, there was no mistaking it, and after clocking out a little earlier with permission from Hange, I now busied myself pacing outside a little ways from the back door Jean usually left through. Dusk was just approaching by the time the door swung open, Jean fiddling on his phone as he slammed the door shut and rummaged through his bag for his keys.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. This was it. This was the defining moment. If Jean accepts I’d have a chance at rekindling our friendship and redeeming myself. If he rejects…I didn’t want to think about that. It’d just unnerve me and I’d already worked so hard to prepare for this moment. I had to act now, or I’d forever kick myself for it later, not that I didn’t already for hundreds of other things.

Coughing lightly, which made him look up from what he was doing and squint at me, I waved shyly and approached. I caught the eye roll from him but he didn’t make any attempts to turn away or stop me, so I continued forward.

"How was your shift…?” I asked, an attempt at light conversation first, just so I wouldn’t chase him off.

My voice was light and not as grounded as I wished it to be. I knew I wasn’t confident and I knew it showed, his eyes boring into mine as he thought over whether he wanted to even answer me or not. He grunted, turning away to continue digging through his bag, shoving his phone in his back pocket.

"Decent.” He grunted, and my eyes fell to my shoes where my heart now lay, cut from his sharp, dismissive tone.

“G-Great…” I said, letting the silence linger a little longer.

Jean found his keys and the sound of them jingling together had me looking up at them, waiting for him to turn and walk away, but he didn’t. He stood his ground and kept his eyes locked on me now, and I knew he was waiting for me to say whatever it was I wanted to say.

“I…wanted to know if you wanted to hit up the arcade later.” I rubbed the back of my neck, now, fighting to keep my gaze locked on his. He gave me an incredulous look before clicking his tongue.

“I’ve got a lot of homework and shit.”

“Oh…I understand. I j-just thought-“

"You just thought what? That I would want to go back to the way we were? After you ran away from me like a coward without so much as acknowledging my feelings?” His words were icy, and I felt the guilt twist like a knife in my already wounded heart. I adverted my eyes then, dropping my hand back to my side.

“Well…Yeah.” I said, unsure of what else I should say to that.

I’d half expected him to walk off at that point, but he still remained standing, staring at me and unmoving. I stole a quick glance at him and adverted my eyes once more because the glare he was fixing me with made me want to disappear right where I stood. Eventually he sighed, my eyes snapping to him again as he threw his head back and drug his hands down his face with an exasperated groan.

“Fine.” He righted himself and looked at me. “Just…Come get in the fucking car already.”

I perked up then, unsure if I’d heard him right, but he was moving now and I was going to get left behind if I didn’t get my own feet moving. As if he knew I was questioning myself, he looked over his shoulder at me and rolled his eyes.

“I said come on, we don’t have all night.”

Nodding dumbly, I scampered up the way to the parking lot and over to the passenger’s side of his car. Jean unlocked it and in an instant I was inside and buckled up, my heart hammering so hard I could hear the blood rushing in my ears.

Jean said nothing for a while as he drove to the arcade. We were still in our work clothes, and I had half a mind to offer that we go to his home and let him change first, but I wasn’t sure that would have been the best idea. It might lead him to back out last minute, and I’d already gotten my hopes up like the idiot I am. This didn’t mean things were fixed, but it was a step in the right direction, and the adrenaline from the confrontation up to now had me reeling. I’d never done anything right like this before, and it was exhilarating.

When we finally arrived at the arcade, Jean parked and shut the car off, digging through his bag for his wallet before frowning and then looking at me. I gave a questioning look before he shook his head, sitting back in his seat and facing the windshield.

“I didn’t take any cash out this morning.”

I frowned, looking down into my own wallet. I had enough to pay for us both, having been smart enough to think ahead and plan for any and all snags that could happen if we did end up heading out. It was the one thing my overworked and ever-overthinking mind was good for. The little arcade’s card reader had gone out a week or two after Jean and I started frequenting, and they’d yet to fix it, I was sure.

When we had first found out about the reader issue, neither one of us had any cash. We didn’t quite feel like driving out of the way just to go to the bank to use the ATM, so we went to the small movie theater just down the road, instead, and watched another superhero film. I was just as excited afterwards as the first time Jean and I had gone to a movie. This was when he found out that I hadn’t gone to a movie theater in years before our first film, and he teased me to no end that I was “uncultured” because I wasn’t up-to-date with any of the mainstream shows and cinematic universes. I elected to leave out the fact that I didn’t own a laptop or TV.

I don’t know how long I sat in silence, reminiscing on that fond little memory, but it was long enough that Jean finally turned and looked at me, breaking the quiet atmosphere that had shrouded us.

“Sorry…” He muttered, and I shrugged.

“I can pay.”

He sat up a little, looking at me and then at my wallet, shaking his head.

"Eren, you don’t have to, it’s not like you’re in a position where-“

“I _said_ I can pay.” I gave him a nervously wide and very forced smirk and shrugged. “What’s the matter, horse-face? Suddenly lost your nerve? Out of practice?”

I knew I was testing waters with the teasing, especially using that nickname I’d come up with a while back that always got him reeling. He snorted and narrowed his eyes at me, and for a second I thought I’d just fucked up again. His answer shocked me slightly.

“Don’t get too cocky there, Jaeger. If you _must_ know, I’m feeling rather on top of my game tonight.”

“Prove it.” The words were out of my mouth before I had a chance to even think twice about them. I didn’t get a chance to even dwell on it either, because it earned me that wide, dopey grin that never failed to erase the bad thoughts that swirled in my mind.

“Gladly.”

 

After a few rounds of me kicking Jean’s ass at any and every game we played, we were finally back in the car and on our way home. Both of us were enthralled in a heated debate about whether or not my good side was the left or right when it came to Mortal Kombat, and whether or not the buttons on the right side like to stick. I was, of course, insisting that there was nothing wrong with the left side, since that was _my_ favorite side, regardless of whether I knew the buttons on the right were actually sticky. Jean didn’t need to know that.

“I’m telling you, they’re sticky!” He growled, hunched over his steering wheel.

"And I’m telling you, they’re not. You’re just a sore loser.”

“Shut it, asshole, I am not!"

“Oh _really?_ So that’s why we’re having this argument in the first place?”

He raised his eyebrow at me, glancing from the road to me every now and then to gauge my expression.

“It’s not an argument because I know _I’m right.”_

“Yes, you are the right player, because I like the left side.” I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest and sinking down into my seat.

“Oh come on! You _know_ the right side is sticky!” 

“I know you’ve got a stupid horse-face.”

“Yeah, well I know you’re a fucking idiot. Let me use the left side then, if you’re so sure the right side isn’t sticking.”

I gasped, dramatically clasping my hand over my heart as if just the thought of switching sides pained me.

“I could never! I’ve always been loyal to the left side! Besides, that’s Scorpion’s _best_ side.”

“ _You’re ridiculous!”_

“Says the one who always loses.”

“I always lose because the buttons are fucking sticky, goddamn it!”

“You always use that fucking excuse, you know. With any game. It doesn’t matter.”

“You’re just saying that. I’m honest when it comes to admitting defeat, unlike _someone_.” That earned a snort from me, as well as a bout of rolling laughter.

“ _You_? Honest about _losing_?” I got a blush from him and he growled, gripping the steering wheel so tight I could see his knuckles turning white.

“I’m going to turn that seat heater up so high it roasts your ass."

“Well then I’ll at least die comfortably. I hate the cold just as much as you hate admitting you suck at Mortal Kombat.”

“I don’t fucking suck at it, the fucking keys were sticky!”

  
We continued down that ever circling argument until he finally pulled into my apartment complex, parking the car and turning to face me. His hand slapping the center console and making me jolt slightly, but still grinning ear to ear regardless. It was so much fun to push his buttons, sticky or not.

“Fuck you, you know just as well as I do that those buttons are-“

“As much as I’d _love_ to prove you wrong, once again, I think we’ve made it to my place.” I chided, unbuckling my seat belt and reviling in the evil glare he shot my way.  
“I guess we have.”

Silence blanketed us, and I shifted slightly, thumbing through a few receipts I still hadn’t cleaned out of my wallet. I didn’t know what to say, but I didn’t really want to get out of the car. It was warm, and I don’t think I’ve ever appreciated heated seats as much as I was right at that moment.

“Wanna…Walk up with me?” I offered tentatively, looking over at Jean, who shrugged after a few moment’s silence.

Unbuckling his seatbelt, he pulled the keys from the ignition and opened his door as I opened mine and we both crawled out of the warm car and into the frigid night air. I shivered lightly, making sure my apartment key was in hand so I wouldn’t waist time digging around my pockets for it. Jean was by my side in an instant seeking warmth, his shoulder brushing mine as we made our way up the stairs.

He hadn’t attempted to bring up the Christmas party, and I was starting to get the idea that he might not want to ever talk about it. I was okay with that, maybe, since being Jean’s friend was more than I could ever ask for.

Once we reached my apartment door, however, I found myself looking down at the key in my hand and biting my lip. The want to get inside quickly was rapidly dissipating, and I dared myself to peer up at Jean who seemed to look distant, thinking something over.

“Something wrong?” I asked, snapping him out of his trance and meeting his eyes. I watched as pink spread from his cheeks and over the bridge of his nose, his hand raising to scratch at his head for lack of anything better to do.

“Nah, just thinking.” He admitted, and I turned my key over in my fingers a few times.

“About what?” My voice was tender, inviting him to answer if he wanted. I was trying really hard not to seem pushy.

“Just…Ah, nothing. Don’t worry about it. I had a lot of fun tonight.” He said shrugging his shoulders and letting his hand drop, only to shove it in his pocket. He leaned against the railing overlooking the parking lot, his eyes never leaving mine, and I let my back rest against my door.

“I did too.” I said softly, feeling an abnormal heat in my cheeks. Was I blushing now, too?

He struggled to find something to say, and finally I spoke up after a few tense moments of silence.

“About…About before…”

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I understand.”

“But I’ve been wanting to talk to you about it for _weeks_.” I said, pushing off the door, unable to help but start to ramble on about everything I’d been mulling about telling him the past week. I didn’t even give Jean a chance to reply to me, I was so quick to jump into my nervous word vomit.

“I-I’m really sorry for running off. It was stupid and childish, but I wasn’t really sure what to do. I-It was never my intention to hurt you, even though I knew it was horrible that I didn’t even acknowledge how you might have been feeling. I’ve never really had to deal with anything like that before, so with that and the overwhelming amount of people at the party, I didn’t know what to do and I didn’t want to say or do anything s-stupid. I-I didn’t want to hurt you, and god, I didn’t want to ruin anything between us, because let’s be honest, I’m too dumb to catch onto anything, but I-“

“Eren, slow down. I’m not going anywhere.” My face fell at his words. Jean was off the railing now, and putting his hands up defensively. He then sighed and clicked his tongue again. “And god, don’t look like I just kicked your fucking puppy either.”

I scrubbed at my face and let myself fall back against my door. I didn’t know what to do or say, nor did I know how to react to anything Jean was saying. I didn’t have the option of running this time, either, and now that I was here, finally having the conversation I’d been wanting to have, I felt absolutely stupid.

“Sorry…I just really freaked out when you stopped talking to me. I thought I’d ruined everything; you know?”

“Yeah…” He let out a puff of air and watched it rise into the cold air. “I’m sorry for ignoring you as long as I did.” He said finally, looking at me with an expression I’d never seen on him before. Sincere apology dousing his features. Now he was the one looking like a kicked dog.

“I deserved it.” I croaked out, and adverted my eyes with the shame of it, but his next words had our gazes locked once again.

“No, you didn’t… I should have known you weren’t…I mean, It’s not like…I guess I just…” He let out an exasperated sigh and kicked his shoe against the wall.

“What I’m _trying_ to say, Eren, is that I shouldn’t have asked you then. I probably shouldn’t have ever asked you, quite honestly. I mean, we’re friends, and that’s not something everyone is comfortable with. I mean, I don’t even know if you’re into guys or whatever.”

That had me thinking. I’d never really thought about my sexuality because I’d never had the chance to explore it. I’d never been in an actual relationship. I mean, sure I had the small, stupid crush or two in middle school, but after mom died and I started pulling away from everything and everyone…It never became a priority. I never went through the phase of finding myself in that aspect socially because I’d never had the opportunity. It’s hard to figure shit out like that when you’re in constant isolation.

Sure I had my hand to keep me company, but since my world was grey and dreary for so long, it became mechanical, just like every other aspect of my life; a never ending routine. I knew I was attracted to Jean though. I had given myself enough time after the party to really think about Jean and what I actually felt about him. He was attractive, I loved to see his smile, I liked to hear his snarky laugh, and I was always thrilled to jump on every invitation to tease him. I knew I liked this man, and I knew now what I wanted from him.

“I’ve never had the experience to know for sure or not what I am, but I’m open minded.” I admitted with a quiet voice, and Jean just sighed.

“Let’s…just forgive and forget.” He said softly, and I bit my lip, that daring voice in the back of my mind challenging me to speak my thoughts freely. To ignore the filters of doubt and fear for once in my god damn life.

“I still haven’t given you my answer, though.” My voice was so soft that, at first, I didn’t think Jean had actually heard me. For a few seconds, he just looked at me, and then after a few more he straightened his back a bit.

“Are…Eren, I…” He stumbled over his words and I held up my hand to stop him.

“Yes.”

Over the next few moments, I don’t think either Jean or I breathed at all. We were stone still and silent as the night, simply staring at each other for what seemed like an endless eternity. Finally, Jean stepped forward, his eyes wide and his blush a bit pinker than I remembered it being.

“A-Are you...Do you really mean that?”

“I…Yes, I mean it. Wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t.” My mind had finally kicked into gear again and was currently reeling over what I’d just said. This was probably the biggest moment of my life since I’d graduated high-school, but here I stood, sure as hell and determined to go through with my decision.

 For the first time in my life, I was _confident_. I’d be lying if I’d said it didn’t feel good, too. I felt empowered, like a light had awoken inside of me, filling the voids and gaping holes left behind by all my fears and insecurities, giving me a new hope that my future might not always be bleak and unfulfilling. Color seemed to suddenly burst into my world, painting everything in a vivid array of light.

Jean was at a loss for words, and I wasn’t sure what to do myself. I felt this instinctual urge to step closer to him, though, to _touch_ him, and it was as I reached to touch his cheek that he stepped closer himself and leaned forward. One of his hands gripped the elbow of the arm I had outstretched, my fingertips brushing the heated skin of his cheek, and the other planted firmly on my hip. His taller frame bent slightly as his face drew near enough to bump our noses together. I gasped and he paused, pulling back slightly in hesitation. My eyes locked on his lips that now seemed _so inviting,_ and I found myself licking my own. Regaining a bit of that confidence I was feeling before, I stepped closer and leaned up, my lips tenderly brushing his in a hesitant moment of inexperience before he pressed forward and sealed them together.

It was awkward at first, but I found myself becoming less stiff as the seconds ticked by, enjoying the warmth of his slightly-chapped lips against my own. My eyes slipped closed as my hand pressed along his cheek, fingertips tracing the sharp line of his jaw as I tilted my head to get a more comfortable angle. He took that as an invitation to melt further into it, and I didn’t protest.

When we parted, his lips hovered over mine, our eyes locked as we both stood silent, our frantic breaths mingling together. I could hear the blood rushing through my ears again, my heart nearly hammering out of my chest, but it wasn’t followed by the sinking feeling I had grown accustomed to it partnering with. No, rather, all that filled me was the overwhelming surge of mixed emotions. Happiness, confidence, doubt, and a pinch of _oh shit I just kissed him_.

Jean let out a soft chuckle, pulling further away from me to right himself, but his hands lingered where they held me.

“You look like a blushing fucking idiot.”

“Well I didn’t know horses could blush either, but I’m looking at one doing it right before my very eyes.”

  
It was that moment that I knew. Things were going to start looking up for me. A new chapter was beginning in my life, and I was ready to accept its challenges and new experiences. I was confident that saying yes to Jean was the right decision. I was experiencing a lot of “firsts” lately, but once more, for the first time in my life, I had a feeling that things were going to be good, not just tolerable.


	10. Honey and Salt

Over the course of the next year and a half, I’ve felt myself grow considerably. Jean showed me how much better life could be when you fight your fears, and for that I am forever indebted to him. He will never know just how deeply I appreciate his pushing, no matter how annoying or overwhelming it gets to be sometimes. He has never once given up on me, and I know it must be taxing on him to put up with my antics.

I had a lot of anxiety during the first half of our relationship, too unsure and scared to really open up to Jean. He was patient and persistent, however, gently prodding me for answers no matter how reluctant I was to talk to him. He eventually came to know about my mother’s death, the abuses my father brought upon me, and how I still remember the sting of his punches clear as day while the echo of my mother’s voice continues to grow distant.

He knew about how I had pushed away my true self, locking it deep within my mind, shackled with insecurity and doubt. He knew I felt inferior, how firmly I had deep-rooted my fabricated contentedness with such a meaningless, dull existence for so long that I had started to believe it was all I’d ever amount to. He knew about it all and yet he didn’t abandon me, despite my sureness that he would upon learning who I really was.

 

I had never really thought about love and what pertained to it before Jean. I knew my mother’s love, yet that was a different feeling all together. I had seen it between the couples who would shop together at the store or walk through the park, and I had read briefly about it in the books I borrowed from the library before skipping over the scenes, but I’d never experienced it. I knew it existed, but I didn’t know _how_ it ever came about. I never really thought about what caused someone to love. I had never had to dwell on it.

It wasn’t until this moment, standing in my living room watching Jean try and figure out how to assemble the new Ikea shelf I had bought to help fill the empty spaces of my “bare-ass apartment”, as Jean liked to call it, that I finally understood. Love wasn’t a feeling I could fabricate like happinenss or contentedness. Love wasn’t a thought that brought with it anxiety and pain like my insecurities and memories.

Love was warm and soothing. Love came about spontaneously. It filled the empty void in my chest with something other than doubt and fear. It was something that could not be understood. It was complex and deep, a catalyst of emotions that all swelled into one huge lump deep in my chest. I didn’t feel agony and insecurity then, as I laughed so hard my chest hurt while Jean cursed in frustration at yet another failed attempt to keep the shelf from collapsing. Dodging the crumpled instructions he’d tossed at me, I wiped the tears from my eyes and let out a breathy sigh. I didn’t question if my behavior was acceptable as I playfully teased his intellectual ability in following simple guidelines.

I felt love. There was no other word I could use to describe it.

It surged over me, gradually silencing my teasing as I felt completely overwhelmed with the line of thought that my brain had suddenly decided to divulge. I took time to think about how I loved his stupidly long features, toothy grin, and arrogant attitude. I thought about how much I loved his ability to soothe my anxieties, his rare expressions of pure-hearted kindness and understanding, and the dumb jokes he’d try to cheer me up with. It was clear as day, right in front of me.

Jean gave me an odd look, questioning the sudden change in mood. He stood as I approached him, and I struggled with words until all I could do was let my emotions take control. I didn’t know how to handle the tidal wave of brand new thoughts and feelings that seemed too intense, and I burst out into a laughing sob while wrapping my arms around his tall frame. I ignored his bantering about how he needed to finish the damn shelf, and let out an exasperated groan.

“I just don’t know why a shelf is so _fucking frustrating.”_

“You’re one to talk! You’re not even helping me! Now let me go so I can finish this stupid thing. It’s a personal vendetta now.”  
“I’ll read you the instructions then, since you apparently can’t yourself.” I grinned against his chest as I felt him rile up at that, laughing as he spoke next.

“I can _read_ Jeager.”

“On a second-grade level, yes.”

“Fuck you.”

He relaxed around me despite his clipped tone, resting his chin on the top of my head. I felt his chest move as he sighed heavily, and shifted closer to press my ear to it to listen to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. His voice rumbled inside my head as he spoke again, exhaustion clear in his tone.

“On second thought…Let’s take a break.”

“Agreed.” I confirmed with a nod against his chest, and he answered me with a growl from his stomach. I only laughed lightly as I poked at his side. “Hungry?”

“I could eat a fucking horse.” He growled, batting my hands away.

“Cannibalism is frowned upon in most societies, Jean.”

“ _Fuck you_.” He pushed me away and I couldn’t help but double over, laughing obnoxiously as he fumed and stormed off towards my kitchen.

“ _No thanks._ ” I called, and let out a breath, rubbing my face with my hands to gather myself for a second. I stared at the wall, sniffling some as I carded my hands through my hair, letting out another heavy sigh.

I couldn’t tell him how I felt.

I could never tell him what I felt for him, because I feared that the moment I did, life would take him away from me somehow. The only other person I truly loved was my mother, and she suffered for it. I knew it wasn’t my fault that she finally succumbed to her cancer, but the emotional turmoil she endured for my sake was every bit my fault. Even when she was alive, father was strict with me and I remember many sleepless nights spent lying awake in bed, listening to them row about my recent fights with my peers or my restless, disruptive antics in the classroom.

I would never wish that curse on Jean. I loved him, but I was not selfish. I didn’t want to see him throw away his happiness over me like my mother did. My thoughts were disrupted by Jean loudly banging my pantry door closed and knocking his head against it in frustration.

“Is cereal and fucking canned soup the only thing you eat? Fucking gross.” He grumped, and I only smirked.

“You’re pretty bold coming into _my_ house and insulting _my_ food.” I griped back and he only groaned.

“That line only works if you actually _cook_ , dumbass. Let’s just…go out to eat.” He muttered, grabbing his keys and wallet off the kitchen table.

 

After a very heated debate between going to the diner by the grocery store, or the burger joint a little further away, Jean and I ended up compromising and pulling into the parking lot of some Italian restaurant we’d never been to. We headed inside, looking around for a few minutes before we were quickly seated and our drinks were ordered. Jean getting himself a glass of wine, and myself just a water.

I quickly learned in the first couple months of dating Jean that I was not a fan of any alcohol. He had tried and tried to find me a drink I’d like, determined and dead set on the notion that there had to be _something_ out there within my tastes. He was, of course, unsuccessful. I didn’t like overly sweet things, nor did I like overly bitter, and the pungent taste of alcohol never sat well on my tongue no matter how diluted it was.

 Neither was I quite fond of the feeling of being impaired. One night, Jean came over to my apartment with a case of some kind of shitty beer and I had forced myself to drink more than half a sip. I didn’t like the feeling of having absolutely no control over myself, and the morning after sealed that strong distaste. I was stuck in the bathroom hugging my toilet for the better half of the day.

I opened my menu and glanced over the appetizers before shifting towards the entrées. I wouldn’t ask Jean to spend extra money, no matter how many times he’d insisted over the last year and a half that I could ask him for whatever I wanted. I heard him hum, and looked over my menu to find him looking straight back at me.

“Decide what you want?”

“No…not yet. What about you?”

“Mm, I’m thinking alfredo.” He muttered, glancing back down at his menu.

I shrugged glancing back over my options before deciding on the cheapest dish, just a simple marinara. I set aside the menu and glanced over the restaurant, taking in the quaint Mediterranean style before Jean’s voice drew my gaze back to him once more.

“I was thinking…” He began, then stopped himself, seeming to be second guessing his words as he closed his menu and folded his hands over it.

“Hopefully not too hard, wouldn’t want you to blow a gasket.”

“Oh shut up, I’m being serious!” He slapped his hand against the plastic cover of the menu in frustration before sighing and sinking back into his booth.

“We’ve been together for almost two years, yeah?” I blinked in confusion and nodded my head for him to continue.

“What if we…I don’t know…never mind, it’s stupid.” He huffed and glanced away towards the picture hanging on the wall over our table. I crossed my arms and rested them on the table.

“Oh come on, you can’t leave me hanging like that. You always make me say what’s on my mind, now it’s your turn. Spit it out.” I teased in a playful tone, but he only squirmed in his seat a little, his wiry fingers picking at the frayed corner of his menu.

“What if we…Start looking at moving forward.” His eyes were finally on mine, and I blinked in confusion.

“Move…forward?”

“Yeah, like…move in together. Look for a place to live.” He shrugged, glancing down at his hands now.

My brows furrowed, unable to form an immediate reply. Move in together? That was a huge commitment, and it would also mean that I would be sharing more intimate aspects of my day-to-day life with Jean, not that they’re all that interesting. He would see just how deeply set in my routines I still was, despite his assistance in coming out of my shell. I still found comfort in repetition, and moving in with Jean might hinder that.

“I…I really….” I stuttered, thinking of something to say that wouldn’t come off as rejection, but also not acceptance.

“I-It’s okay if you need time to think about it.” He looked up at me. “I don’t want to push you into anything you’re not comfortable with.”

I let out a sigh of relief at that. Despite our bantering and teasing, Jean and I always shared a line of mutual respect for each other, one that was not crossed. It was another one of those things that made me feel that warm fuzzy feeling I had earlier…Love.

He cared about me. It was something I’ve lived without for nearly a decade, and I was still getting used to it now. It felt good to be reminded that Jean actually took my feelings into consideration, especially with a proposition as large as this one.

“Alright...I’m not saying no, just…let me think about it.” That response earned me a quick nod of understanding from Jean, who’s attention then turned to the waitress who prompted us for our order.

 

We had returned to my apartment after our dinner outing, bellies full and our hunger sated for the time being. I set my keys into their regular drawer and looked over my shoulder at Jean who was currently glaring at the still-incomplete shelf lying in pieces on my living room carpet. Letting out a little chuckle, I rolled my eyes and made my way over to sit on the couch.

“Leave it alone for now, if you can’t figure it out later, I’ll try tomorrow.” I purred in a soft voice, waving Jean over to sit next to me.  He groaned and flopped down, causing the couch to squeak slightly in protest.

“I’m too full to care anyway.” He shrugged, acting impartial, even if I knew it was feigned, and looked up at the ceiling. I looked too, tracing the random patterns the plaster decorations made. Silence blanketed around us, but it was comfortable. My thoughts moving towards living with Jean.

There were a lot of variables to consider, one being that Jean was absolutely the messiest person I’d ever met. I had a hunch he was messier than Hange, and that’s a feat I never thought could be reached. There had been many nights where I had stayed over at Jean’s house in his room, and while the house itself was relatively spotless, the same could not be said for the state of his floor. Actually, I couldn’t tell if he even had a floor most of the time. Not a single flat surface was clear, either. Not his desk, dresser, nightstand or TV stand; they all were cluttered with something or other.

Jean was also a loud person. While I barely made much more noise than a mouse even after becoming a little more open, Jean was always clumsy and chaotic. He cursed at the TV, he tripped over the piles of laundry on his floor, and he’d rather yell across the house to answer or ask questions than go up to the person he’s inquiring, be it his parents or myself.

Though, despite his flaws, Jean wasn’t terrible when he stayed over at my apartment. Over the last year, since he started regularly spending nights with me, he’d accumulated a small collection of his clothes and other small items of his here which he kept somewhat orderly, and had never really been rude. He was considerate of my things and didn’t make a huge mess.

I was going back and forth over the pros and cons. Thinking about how largely my routines would probably be affected, based on how much it already changes when he’s here for a night, and how well we might balance each other out as roommates. I must have been too quiet, or maybe my expression might have been a little downturned, because Jean’s warm hand took a gentle, reassuring hold of my own. I rolled my head against the back of the couch I had been resting it against, looking down at our interlaced fingers before flicking my eyes up to meet Jean’s. He spoke to me without actually speaking, his gaze mildly concerned. _I’m here if you need me._

He was closer than before, his face mere inches from my own. I took a few moments to take his features in before letting myself lean a little closer, touching my lips to his in a soft, light kiss. An acknowledgement. _I see you, I know you’re here, and I’m okay_.

He smiled softly and seemed to be thinking about the unspoken words passed between us. His hand tightening around mine before he let go and moved to hunch over his knees, stretching his back out with a yawn.

“It’s getting late.” He muttered, eyes staring ahead at the empty TV stand I had. I looked at it too.

“Yeah…” I murmured back in a gentle voice, reaching my hand to touch my fingers to his bicep. Another unspoken question passing between us. _Do you want to stay?_

“I should probably get going.” He stood then, stretching his arms above his head and yawning loudly once again. “Are you going to be alright alone tonight? I’ve gotta get some work done for class before I get to bed and I didn’t bring my laptop.”

I nodded when he looked back at me and then moved to stand myself. It really was getting late and I needed to start on my routine anyway. Jean collected his wallet and car keys and made his way to the door, myself following behind a few steps. When he stepped out of my doorway and onto the front balcony, he stopped and turned to face me.

“I really want you to consider my offer.” His eyes locked with mine and his hands reached to take hold of my own with a soft squeeze, earning a blush from my cheeks.

“I-I told you that I would. I’d already been thinking about it.” I glanced back into my apartment for a few moments before turning back to Jean, his expression soft but otherwise unreadable. It made me slightly uncomfortable.

“I know, but just…know that I’m okay with whatever decision you make.”

“Jean, it’s okay to ask me big questions...You’re right, we’ve been together for a while now…maybe we could look at a few places around here.”

“That’s…the thing.” He said cautiously, as if he were tip toeing around a sleeping bear. “I…don’t want to live here.”

“Like in my apartment? I figured we could afford something more decent with our combined finances—“

“I mean out of this city, Eren.” He stared at me, and I could only stare back for a long while.

“You…want to leave?” I asked stupidly, caught dumbfounded by the notion. Why? I’d been living here for almost five years now, it was a quaint town and we both had a stable job, even if it didn’t pay much. Maybe I had grown too used to living simply, and Jean was not content with that. I felt the nipping whispers of my insecurities begin to swirl about, provoked by the notion that Jean might not be happy with me after all.

“Well…yeah.” He shrugged, glancing away. “I don’t want to live five minutes from my parents the rest of my life, and there isn’t really anything here for me that caters to my schooling. I mean, I’m almost done. I’ve got a few semesters left and then I’ve got my degree.”

“Maybe the city could use civil engineers?” I pressed.

“If I wanted to be a civil engineer, I would have gotten a degree in civil engineering. I want to be a mechanical engineer, not build buildings.” He grew a little heated, and I backed off, turning my head to the side and rubbing my arm.

“I-I just…What about the grocery store? What about Hange?” I asked, biting my lip.

“ _What about it?_  Hange can easily hire some high school kid to fill the position. We’re nearly twenty-three, Eren, we’ve gotta move on from menial minimum-wage jobs and make something of ourselves!”

I shrunk back into the apartment as he squeezed my hands, a glint of excitement passing over his eyes as he spoke enthusiastically, but my own only dulled with fear of venturing onto a path towards an unknown future. How could he be so sure we’d be okay somewhere else? Maybe _he_ might be able to find something better than the grocery store, but I barely have my high school diploma. I had below average marks in most subjects, and I never participated in anything vocational or in any sports. I never went to college, nor do I have any considerable achievements up to date. I was a nobody, and I’d probably always be a nobody. Jean was a somebody, destined to make something of himself. A path I knew I could never follow.

My thoughts quickly divulged into darker depths from there, stemming off of the insecurity that Jean could do so much better than me, and I was only holding him back. If we moved and he saw for himself how little of a future I had for myself, he’d leave me for sure.

“M-Maybe you can move on…” I pulled my hands from his and watched as his excited expression fell into slight confusion and worry. “I don’t have the things you have. If I move, I’ll just be stuck at some other job like the one I have now, and barely make enough to make ends meet for myself, let alone with you.” I bit my lip. “I-I mean think about it, Jean, if we moved somewhere like Sina, a huge city, the cost of living would be insane. If we moved somewhere like Trost, it’s so rural I’d have to get a car, and I can’t afford that with insurance and a higher rent to top it all.” Jean sighed as I spoke, running his hands though his hair, eyes on the ground before looking back up at me, expression serious now.

“Then let’s change that!” He snipped and brought his arms down to cross them, beginning to show his irritation. “Of course you’re not going to get anywhere if you do nothing to change your situation. Look at jobs that have opportunity to move up the chain of command. Maybe you should even look at going to a community college or something, at least take a couple classes! You could find something you’d really enjoy as a career that way, even if you don’t end up getting a degree.” He sighed in exasperation and shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose, and I felt my heart sink. “Look, it’s late. We’ll talk about this tomorrow or something, but really think about it okay? I _want_ to leave this place and make something of myself, and I want to take _you_ with me.”

“A-Alright, alright. I’ll think about it.” I relented in exasperation.

“Good, I’ll see you tomorrow then.” He bent over to press a chaste kiss to my lips and turned, walking down the balcony towards the stairs that led down to the parking lot. I knew he was still irritated, and I felt guilty because of it.

I closed my door and leaned against it. Maybe I wasn’t doing much to change my current situation, but I never felt like I deserved to. I could barely make it through high school, so why waste my time and finances in community college where I was sure I’d fail? I had managed to get by as I was, so what point was there in changing anything?

That small spark inside me, the one that longed for bigger and better things, as always began to whisper. Maybe it would be nice to have more than what I had now. Maybe it would be a good thing to get a few classes done, and find at least a hobby I might like. Maybe I didn’t really have to be okay with living miserably. Maybe…I did deserve to better myself.

Running my hands through my hair, I huffed, doubt and insecurity combatting against the flame and sputtering it out once more, as always. No, it didn’t work before, why would it work now? I proved long ago that I was incapable. My own father told me how invalid I was, and I knew I was no good for anything truly important.

It hurt to know that I couldn’t follow Jean. It hurt that I couldn’t provide him with the support that he needed, or match his lust to move on to better things. He would make something of himself and I would always be here, invisible, continuing my mundane lifestyle until I finally croak.

A very morbid thought crossed my mind, then. When I finally did kick the bucket, would anyone notice? Would I rot alone in my apartment until someone finally stumbled upon me? Would I even have anywhere to live by that time? I don’t have any savings, nor have I got any retirement fund set up. I could very well be out of house and home if I became too feeble to work.

Sliding my hands down my face to pull my bottom eyelids down, I groaned. Jean deserved so much better. I’m foolish to feel the way I do about him, and I knew that eventually I would have to deal with the pain of him abandoning me as well.

Standing, I went about my routine feeling quite numb to the outside world. When I finally crawled onto my bed and under my flimsy blanket, I let out a choked sob. My bones ached and my chest hurt. I was just so _tired_ and I didn’t know why life always played so cruelly with me. Taunting me with a life I could never even hope to achieve.

It was that thought in mind that I finally drifted into a restless sleep, tossing and turning through the night until it was time to get up for work, still aching and bedsore.

 

It took a few days for Jean to bring up the living situation again. We were having our usual Friday night date out to eat, and I quite enjoyed the way the warm atmosphere and delicious food numbed the frustrations of the day. On our way back to Jean’s house he spoke up, his eyes remaining on the road.

“So…Have you thought about my proposition?” He was nervous, I could tell, because he seemed unfocused, less sure of himself, and he didn’t tease me at all.

“I have, but…I’m still really hesitant about leaving town.” I admitted, sinking into my seat, as if that would make me disappear.

“I don’t understand why you’re so set on staying here, Eren, you’ve got nothing holding you back.” His sharp tone startled me, and I immediately lashed back in defense.

“I have everything holding me here, Jean, I don’t understand why you can’t see that. I’ve lived here for five years! I’ve built a life for myself here. This is all I’ve ever known since dad kicked me out.”

“You’ve built _shit_ and you know it.” He growled, hunching over his steering wheel as he braked a little roughly for a stoplight. Once the vehicle stopped, his eyes met mine and I gaped at him.

“I-I can’t believe you just said that to me.” I gasped, staring in disbelief at Jean.

“Well you’ve admitted it to me yourself! Stop acting so fucking surprised.” He snapped and I narrowed my eyes.

“I don’t have much, no, but that doesn’t discredit my efforts. I’ve always lived this way, and you know that. It’s what I’m used to, so what’s the sense in changing it?”

“What’s the sense in keeping it the same when you damn well know that you _can_ have better than this!?” He slapped the steering wheel and I jumped, eyes widening slightly. Jean continued speaking before I could get a word in edgeways.

“You always talk about how you live such a fruitless life, but when I offer you an opportunity to change it, you shrink back at the notion! You throw it back in my face and doubt yourself! I have no fucking clue why, though, since I’ve told you over and over again you’re worth a hell of a lot more than you think you are.” He rolled his eyes and stomped on the gas once the light turned green, continuing to rage on and on.

I gripped the sides of my seat so hard my knuckles turned white, staring, frozen in fear, at the road ahead as the car just kept getting faster and faster with his rage, careless with his driving.

“—and I just don’t fucking understand it! You’ve got to stop with this—”

“—Jean—” He won’t stop yelling, my mind is boggling, I can’t focus, he’s driving too fast.

“—Because it’s pointless!—“

"—Jean—“ I grip the seat hard, tears beginning to well in my eyes.

"—It hurts me to see you put yourself down so much, I’m trying to help you—“

“—Jean stop the fucking car!” I screamed, it was the only thing I could think to do. The stoplight turned red and Jean showed no sign of slowing down or stopping. We were going to run through it if something didn’t happen, and fast.

Thankfully, Jean cut it out, managing to slam on his breaks hard enough to stop just over the line. Both of us were quiet save for our panting, my entire body shaking and tears endlessly streaming down my cheeks. Jean cursed and ran his hands through his hair, pressing his forehead to the steering wheel for a minute to gather himself. When he lifted back up, he stared at the light, not saying a word as he waited for it to turn green. I was the one that broke the silence.

“T-Take me home.” My voice was broken, but I managed to force it out, still panting while Jean had calmed down considerably. He looked over to me and sighed.

“I didn’t mean to yell or get angry and shit, I’m sorry. But seriously it frustrates me to no end that you-“

“Jean, I said take me _fucking home._ I’m done talking about this and I don’t want to stay with you tonight.” My tone was firm as I stared ahead at the road, wincing as he started driving once the light turned, considerably slower. He only nodded his head while we both fell back into silence, the soft hiccups of my uneven breathing the only thing filling the air now.

When we pulled into the parking lot of my apartment complex, Jean took a firm hold of my wrist before I could dart out of the car, his eyes on mine and full of desperation.

“Eren, I’m sorry—“

“I-It’s one thing to get fucking angry at me, but it’s another to get out of control and almost _kill_ us.” I said firmly, ripping my arm from him and turning my head from him. “I-I need to get away from you and breathe, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

With that, I opened the car door and didn’t look back until I was in the safety of my apartment. Surprisingly, I didn’t break down, I didn’t cry, I was just _angry._ How dare Jean blow up at me when he damn well knew I was uncomfortable with the discussion in the first place. He wouldn’t even hear me out, he immediately went on a tirade about how angry _I make him_ even though this entire thing is his idea in the first place.

I went to bed fuming that night, all the while my phone blowing up with desperate texts from Jean. I just didn’t want to deal with it right then. I haven't felt this angry in a very long time, and I wasn’t sure how to handle it. The last thing I wanted to do was take it out on Jean and say something I might regret later. Why couldn’t he just understand that _I’m afraid_?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the delay in putting up this chapter, so I hope the little bit of extra length to it makes up for it ;u;. Thank you again for all your wonderful comments and kudos.


	11. Shattered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me for my inconsistent posting, thank you all for your kudos and comments.

Since I had the next day off, I ignored my alarm and slept in until nine. When I finally opened my eyes, I rubbed the gunk from them and stared up at the ceiling for a while, taking in how the soft morning light filled my shabby room in a nostalgic sort of way. It would be another hour before I even bothered to move, sitting up and stretching with a loud yawn.

My mattress was still lumpy, and I was still bedsore every morning, but somehow the familiar ache was comforting as I recalled last night’s outing with Jean. Still, despite sleeping and separating myself from Jean, I felt that same anger bubble up inside of me. Questions about how to go about talking to Jean about the issue and what my stance even really was on the idea of moving out filled my head and spun in endless circles

I decided that a walk in the park might help clear my muddied mind, and so I pulled on some clothes I didn’t bother to try and match, and made my way outside and down the street. The closest park was small and quaint, right next to the grocery store. It had a nice little path that led through thick trees and out to a hill where you could look over the rest of the town below. I liked to go there to think about things or if my apartment felt too suffocating.

It was there that I sat and really thought about what I truly felt about where I was currently in my life. I knew that I was not happy here, and I knew that if I stayed Jean would likely decide to leave me behind. I couldn’t blame him for wanting to better himself, and I also couldn’t blame him for getting frustrated with me. I never thought I was worth much, and I probably never will, but it couldn’t hurt to try and make sacrifices for Jean just as he does for me.

I sat in the grass for an hour or so before I finally checked my phone, reading through the mountains of apologies from Jean and listening through the voicemail he left me. I wasn’t angry about the car incident anymore, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t still frighten me. Jean’s temper was a force to be reckoned with, just as mine used to be a long time ago. There were a lot of things about Jean that would take some getting used to if I decided to move in with him. His messiness, his loud mouth, his temper above all, but maybe I was just coming up with excuses again….

I decided to call him, figuring that would be the best way to try and attempt communication after such a confusing, heated fight. Was it really a fight? Not really, it was more of an argument.

I still wasn’t sure what to say as the phone began ringing, and when Jean’s tired voice answered after the third, I was quiet for long enough he asked if anyone was there. Shaking my head, I sighed.

“Y-Yeah I’m here, sorry…” I muttered into the receiver, glancing down at my shoes to watch a ladybug crawl over the toe.

“Why are you sorry? I’m the one that should be apologizing, I didn’t mean to-“

"I don’t…really want to talk about that…” I cut him off, reaching down with my free hand to try and entice the ladybug onto my finger. It refused and waddled off to the nearest blade of grass as Jean’s disgruntled voice cut into the receiver again.

“Oh, okay…So, er…what did you want to talk about, then?” He asked, slight irritation clear in his tone. I knew he wanted to talk about what happened last night, and about us moving in, and about me going to college, but it was just way too much for me to deal with right at that moment. I would much rather sit down face to face and have that discussion, if I were honest.

“I wanted to know if you wanted to come over to talk.” I finally said after a long bout of silence, and Jean’s heavy sigh answered me. I knew I couldn’t bullshit a conversation though, it would only serve to cause more tension between us. Jean always knew when I was tiptoeing around and avoiding a specific topic, especially when we were at odds with each other.

“...You could have just texted me, y’know.” He finally muttered after another long bout of silence.

“Yeah but you’d still be sleeping. I knew you’d wake up if I called.” I teased lightly, which earned me another sigh, but this one much lighter. I could tell he was smiling.

“Whatever. I’ll be over in an hour or so.”

“Don’t fall asleep again.”

“I won’t, dipshit.” He grunted and I laughed lightly while giving my goodbyes before hanging up the phone and making the trek back home.

I stopped by the grocery store along the way since I needed a few things and to kill time so that by the time I’d reached the stairway to my apartment, Jean was pulling into the parking lot. He jogged up to join me, taking a few of the bags I had in my arms to help me, and we made our way up to my apartment in tense silence. Once we settled and put the groceries away, Jean flopped himself onto the couch and sighed heavily, prompting me to follow and ease myself gently against the old springs. He spoke first after a few minutes of silence.

“I’m sorry about the car.” He was picking and twiddling his thumbs against his index fingers, eyes watching but not really seeing what he was doing.

“I forgive you.” As I spoke he sat up some, leaning to rest his elbows on his knees, eyes on mine.

“I’m not sorry for being upset about this though. I feel like you’re fighting me when I’m trying to help you make something of yourself.” He said firmly, and I only adverted my eyes. “I’m trying to give you a solution to the problems you always talk to me about, but I feel like you’re pushing me away because of it.”

“That’s because I am.” I sighed and slumped against the couch, brows furrowing as I puffed my cheeks out. “Forgive me if it’s a little hard to let go of something I’ve spent years cultivating with what I have.” I glanced at him. “I know it’s not much, but it’s mine. I’ve been able to make it this far. It’s what I’m used to.”

“Just because you’re used to it doesn’t make it good.” He stated dryly, and I shut my mouth. He was right. “You’re not happy like this, Eren, everyone can see it.”

That made me feel a little insecure, and I’m sure it showed, because Jean reached over and squeezed my shoulder the same way he always does when he’s trying to reassure me. I worried my bottom lip between my teeth with a slight wince as the chapped skin cracked, and finally let out a sigh after a few more moments of silence.

“Okay, you win.” I said in a voice barely above a whisper, soft and unsure while Jean’s eyebrows raised in surprise.  
“I what?” He asked, dumbfounded. I only rolled my eyes and batted his hand gently off my shoulder.

“I said you win. Alright. I’ll move out with you. I’ll try to get into community college.” I adverted my gaze and rubbed my hands nervously together. “I’ll…try. For you.”

He was speechless for a few moments, his hands still and his eyes locked on me. I glanced between his deep brown eyes and the floor a few times before he finally relaxed back into the couch and ran a hand through his hair.

“You really mean that?” He asked, finally, and I nodded. “Good…You don’t know how happy that makes me.”

I turned to face him, then, to take in his face, to see if he really looked happy or if he was just trying to comfort me. His expression was sincere as ever, eyes shining with pure joy and his hands coming to take mine, pulling me closer so he could wrap his arms around me and press me to his chest. His heart sounded like it would break through his sternum if it beat any faster.

"I knew you’d come around eventually, idiot.”

 

It took a few more months, five to be exact, but Jean and I finally found an apartment in the outskirts of urban Sina. We moved in close to the two-year mark of our relationship, and have been living here for the last year. It hasn’t been a walk in the park, however, and I had a feeling it wouldn’t be.

I signed up for a few classes at the community college further in the city within the first month of us living together, Jean’s dad offering to help with our rent under the condition that I was going to school and working while Jean was searching for a career in his desired profession.

I found that I actually really excelled in college, and I had been able to maintain a high B average through my first semester, so I stuck with it. Upon taking a few courses, I decided that I liked my art elective, and so I chose to focus on that along with a few classes in business under Jean’s insistence that art wouldn’t find me a decent career.

I had also landed a managerial position at a branch of the grocery store from my old job thanks to Hange. It was harder work than stocking shelves, but I found that it was much more enjoyable and less menial. I didn’t have to fill my time daydreaming and I could focus my small talent for organization into it easily. Jean insisted that I keep it temporary until I find a good focus of study in college, since it wasn’t a job he thought would make a decent living.

Jean thinks a lot of things I do wont amount to much, it seems. His perspective of me seems to have been changing little by little as the months go by.

Now, a year after moving in together, Jean has yet to find a decent job he can hold onto and I have had to cut back on how many classes I take for my third semester to work longer hours at the grocery store, because his father stopped helping us pay rent. I can’t say I blame him, though, since Jean apparently thinks he’s too good for menial work.

We also fight a lot.

We fight a _lot_.

I’ve become more open, and with that comes a rekindling of my temper that I had previously mentioned. I was quick to challenge Jean and speak my mind, and it often led to us butting heads. We would argue and bicker for days on end, refusing to give in until the other caves.

Our longest stalemate was a month and a half. Jean slept on the couch for an entire month because he didn’t want to admit that he always left his dishes lying everywhere for me to pick up and only returned to the bedroom on my insistence that the entire fight was stupid and pointless.

It was really trying on my patience, dealing with Jean. He moans and complains about his day job at the convenience store down the block every night while he sits on the couch, eating chips and fighting with the talking heads on the TV. He complains that he still can’t find a job in his degree field while I work double shifts and skip assignments so that we can afford to eat. He has excuse after excuse as to why the universe was conspiring against him, and the job market in his field was flooded, therefore he’s unable to find anything, blaming the world for his problems.

I’m beginning to realize that he’d grown up having everything handed to him. Completely the opposite to what I was used to. He was the one who had been pushing for me to put effort into bettering myself, but now that we live together, I feel like his idea of “bettering myself” is providing for him.

I cook, I clean, I work to exhaustion, and all he can ever do is complain. It causes a lot of tension, the air thick of it every time I so much as speak to him about his job prospects or bills.

Like tonight, for example. Jean is currently sitting on his ass on his laptop doing god knows what while the dishes still sit collecting mold and dust around him. I asked him to do the dishes for me today when he got home from work, that was the _only_ thing I asked him to do, and yet the sink was still full and the living room still cluttered. I dropped my wallet on the counter without so much as a greeting from Jean, and went back into the bedroom to kick off my shoes before I decided to say something about it. I had just gotten off my fourth ten hour shift in a row for this week, and I was tired. Tired of working, tired of living in filth, and tired of him doing jack shit to change it, despite my asking for help.

“Jean!” I called, making my way into the hallway that connected our bedroom to the living room. He didn’t so much as look up from his screen.

“What?” He muttered irritably, reaching across the coffee table for another handful of fucking chips.

“You didn’t do the dishes like I asked.” I said, matching his irritability.

“Sorry, didn’t get a chance to. Meant to do it later.” He brushed me off and rolled his eyes, muttering in annoyance at the screen.

That had me fuming. Didn’t have a chance to? Well, he’s got a chance now, because I’ve had it with his lazy ass. I storm over to the TV, which was currently blaring the news, and shut it off before turning around and slamming the lid of his computer shut. He jumped, and then scowled at me, standing up.

"What the _hell_ , Eren!?” He screeched and I felt my cheeks grow red with my anger.

“What do you fucking mean _what the hell_ , Jean?! I’ve been working my fucking ass off every fucking week just to make ends meet because your dad’s cut us off, and _you—YOU,_ who has been sitting on your ass all _fucking_ night since you got home, couldn’t be bothered to do the _one thing_ I asked you to do, so that _maybe_ — _just maybe_ —we wouldn’t have to sit in _filth_ for once in our fucking lives.” I screamed, throwing my hands around to demonstrate my utter exasperation about the entire ordeal. I was clearly quite fed up.

“I told you I was busy! I’ve been looking for new jobs, I’ve even got one guy who’s supposed to call me tomorrow! But you wouldn’t fucking know that because you’d rather nag at me all fucking day. Lay off, will you?! You’ve been fucking nagging me for weeks about this shit, and I haven’t been doing it because of it! Fuck off and I’ll get it done, I told you I would!” He waved his hands in the air before starting to collect a few of the dishes that sat on the coffee table, and I growled in annoyance. Yes, he was doing what I asked him to do now, but he was throwing it back in my face like this fucking mess was my fault, and I was not about to put up with it.

"You never carry your weight around, you know that? You’re a fucking asshole, sitting here, stuffing your face and watching TV. Who the fuck are you to tell me that I need to lay off?” I followed Jean into the kitchen where he slammed the ceramics into the sink and turned to face me, pure venom in his voice as he spat back at me.

“Who the fuck are _you_ to tell me I don’t do enough shit around here?! You act like you’re the only god damn person who pays the bills in this fucking place. News flash, _I_ work _too_ , and it’s fucking exhausting and I fucking hate my job.” He threw his hands up in the air. “And it doesn’t help when I have my fucking boyfriend coming home and screaming at me the second he steps through the door every fucking night! Would it _kill_ you to ask me how my fucking day went or something!?”

“I wouldn’t fucking yell at you if you did what I fucking asked!”

“I _told_ you I was _fucking busy—“_

“Doing what Jean! Huh?! Do you realize I’ve worked a ten hour shift for the _fourth_ time in a row and I’ve still been able to do the fucking laundry, clean the fucking bathroom, clean your fucking messes in the living room, _and_ cook your ass dinner!? What makes you so special that you can’t pull your fucking weight after work? You expect me to feel sorry for you not liking your job, after all the shit I went through before you came along!?” Now he was fuming, red in the face just like me and practically screaming at me as he got up close and jabbed his finger in my chest.

“Oh _boo fucking hoo. Y_ ou keep bringing up how you went through so much worse before me. Well, at least I’m _trying_ to find a job that’s better than the shitty-ass minimum wage bullshit job I have right now. And what are _you_ doing, hm? You can’t even decide on a god damn major or even a fucking vocational certificate! You’re always content to just stay where you fucking are. If it weren’t for _me_ you’d still be sitting in that shitty apartment making absolutely nothing of your life!"

“You’re a fucking dickbag, you know that!? Fuck you! I can’t believe you have the balls to fucking say that shit to me! You’re in the same fucking boat as me, don’t even try to make it out like you’re the only one with aspirations now!” I had tears in my eyes, hot and blurring my vision, and it only served to annoy me further. Jean was shoving me aside now, grabbing his keys and wallet before heading to the door. I growled and followed, grabbing his arm.

“Where the fuck are you going?” I snarled, and he snatched his arm away from my hand.

“Out. To get the fuck away from you. I’m not fucking dealing with this tonight.” He hissed and threw open the door. I ran out after him and called out to him as he made his way hastily down the hallway towards the elevator.

“I swear to God, Jean, if you’re going out to the fucking bar again, don’t bother coming back tonight!”

“Wasn’t planning on it!” He roared before mashing the elevator button.

I turned around and slammed the apartment door shut, crying out in frustration before slamming my fist against it. Jean never wanted to communicate. We always escalated straight into fighting every time I tried to stand up for myself, Jean always finding some reason for it all to be _my_ fault. It was exhausting, especially because a part of me felt guilty for it. He’s right, for a while I truly was going nowhere, and if he hadn’t come along I probably still would be sitting in that apartment alone, feeling sorry for myself. That was no excuse for him to act the way he does though, in my eyes, and I hated that things were turning sour between us.

Rarely were we intimate anymore. Rarely did we go out, because whenever we would fight, Jean would go out to drink with his college friends and blow any financial cushion we had. It was exhausting. I was exhausted. I keep trying to do the things he wants me to do, change myself and continue my education and find a job that doesn’t pay shit, but he refuses to take up the slack that I can’t hold on to in order to do so. He’d rather play college student and go out with his friends when shit gets hard, and that doesn’t pay bills.

It hurt me to tell him to find another place to sleep tonight, but I was so hurt and upset by his words I didn’t want to see his face for at least a night. I knew he’d be back tomorrow, and the cycle would start over again, however, and I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to break free from it without either leaving Jean or him leaving me.

I could always try to sit him down and talk to him about it like functional adults, but every time I’ve done that in the past, he improved for a week or so before falling back into his old habits.

I went to bed alone that night, praying to whatever god was in the heavens for an answer. Horribly lost as to what I could do, and terribly upset.

 

It was around four in the morning when I was woken abruptly by a loud knock against my door. Groaning, I rolled over to turn my back towards the bedroom door, willing away whoever had the audacity to come visit at this hour. Maybe if I ignored it long enough, they would go away. The thought that it could very well be _Jean_ didn’t even cross my mind until the second time the knock rang through, and I sat up, already irritated as I tugged on a shirt to be in something other than just my boxers before making my way to the door, muttering under my breath.

When I opened the door with an irritated ‘What?’, however, I was surprised to find that it wasn’t Jean crawling back to beg my forgiveness, but a rather intimidating-looking police officer. Glancing around the hallway before settling my eyes back on the stranger, I straightened myself out and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. Had…Jean gotten into trouble?

The officer was impressively tall, standing over me. In the dark I had a hard time making out too much of him, but I gathered he had somewhat long brown hair and large, worried-looking eyes. Glancing at the nameplate on his chest told me his last name was Moblit.

“I’m terribly sorry to bother you at this hour. You’re Eren Yeager, I presume?” The officer greeted uncertainly, his voice soft and suddenly icy dread filled my entire being. He wasn’t here for just anything. I’d heard of others having police officers pay abrupt visits, and I knew the news they had to bear was never good.

Especially at this hour.

“I-It’s alright, yes, that’s me…C-Can I ask what this is about?” I managed, my voice weak as I hesitated for a moment, eyes searching the officer’s face for any hint as to what this meeting was about. I found nothing, his face soft but still unreadable, and it only served to further put me on edge.

“I assume you know I come with news you’re not keen on hearing.” He murmured, remaining calm and keeping his voice soft and low, brown eyes trained on mine. “You’re listed as Jean Kirschtein’s emergency contact, I’ve come to inform you that he’s been involved in an accident a little over an hour ago…”

My heart stopped beating. I could have sworn it did. As the officer continued speaking, I felt my entire world begin to collapse around me. Time seemed to freeze, the man in front of me felt like an illusion and the words he said to me a terrible, terrible nightmare. I had only managed to register bits and pieces of what he was telling me. Accident…several cars involved…open bottles…Jean was a passenger…ejected…pronounced dead at the scene…It was all too much.

Too much.

Too much.

_Too much._

I didn’t want to believe a single word, and I must have looked pale as a ghost because within the next minute the officer had his hand on my shoulder in a firm squeeze and was asking if I was alright. I felt faint, I couldn’t breathe. My throat wanted to close and my chest tightened up. I begged that this was a dream. Just a horrible, horrible nightmare I’d wake up from in a few minutes, and Jean would be there, lying next to me and whispering apologies like always. I would wake up and Jean would be there, and life would continue on as it had any other day. I would wake up, and Jean would complain just like always because he wpuld have another early morning shift. Jean and I would fight again, and he’d leave again, and then come back. That’s what always happened, that’s what was supposed to happen. It was impossible for it to be any other way than just like that.

Jean couldn’t be dead.

_He couldn’t be._

When I asked for a solution, I never meant _this_.


	12. Extinguished

Jean was gone, and with him a piece of me I didn’t think I’d ever see again. He was my everything, my spark, my sobriety. Despite all of the issues we’d had, I still loved him the same way I had that night he tried to assemble that stupid Ikea shelf. It was hard at first. It was hard to realize that Jean wouldn’t be coming back home, and I would never see his face again. I would never feel his touch, his kisses, his love. I would never again hear his voice or catch the subtle scent of the cologne he always wore. Jean would never walk through the door again and complain about work, nor would he ever slip into bed beside me late at night to whisper sweet nothings and hold me close. Jean would never text me about stupid people he had to deal with during the day, and I would never be able to call him during his overnight shifts to hear his voice and keep him company until sleep overtook me, and it was _all my fault._

Maybe if I hadn’t nagged him that night. If only I had been a little more understanding of his stresses and a little less selfish myself, he’d still be here, sitting on the couch like every night when I got home from work.

I regret so much since his passing.

There was so much I could have done differently that would have kept him here with me. There was so many things I wish I could have told him before he left for what would be the last time. I regretted the circumstances for his leaving, the fight we’d gotten into, the venomous words we’d spat back and forth.

I regret that the last thing I had ever told him was to not come home that night.

I regret that I never told Jean I loved him, that I never got the chance to. Between the fighting and the stresses of moving in, it never felt right, the moment never set itself up. I realized that my fear of telling him was irrational. Regardless of whether I told my mother I loved her or not, she would have still died from complications of her cancer, just as Jean would have still been ejected from the passenger’s side of Marco’s vehicle.

That’s what the police report said. Marco wasn’t even drunk, he was just being a good friend and trying to help Jean back to his place for a night’s rest, I’m sure. The ironic thing was that they were hit head on by a drunk driver, the very thing they were trying to avoid. Maybe it was a bit morbid for me to think about, but I felt somewhat relieved to hear that they were both presumed to be killed on impact.

I couldn’t face Jean and Marco’s friends after their death. Even at the funeral, I couldn’t look at Reiner, Berthold, or Connie. I couldn’t even look Jean or Marco’s parents in the eye. I just felt so _guilty_.

I felt like they somehow knew that at the root of everything, it was my fault that Jean had been out being stupid, and didn’t have a home to come back to. It was my fault he had probably called Marco to ask him if he could stay over, and it was my fault they died.

If only they knew that I would give anything to have taken Jean’s place.

It hurt to stand there and watch his family be torn apart by it all. It burned me to watch them suffer when they were so close to him and loved him so much, while I stood here, alone with nobody to love and nobody to call my family, still alive and meandering about my pitiful existence.

They asked me to speak during the memorial and I could only shake in my shoes and will back the want to sob. I felt so _horrible_ for it, here I was, at my boyfriend of three year's funeral, with nothing to say or show for it. I wanted to tell them how it was all my fault, how I had told Jean not to come back, about the problems we were having. I wanted to selfishly reach out and ask for forgiveness, for someone to justify that the demons whispering to me were wrong and that, regardless of what I had done, Jean would still had suffered the same fate. I wanted someone to tell me that I couldn’t have done anything to save him, that despite everything pointing back to me, I was selfishly free of blame. I wanted to tell them he meant the world to me, that he helped me grow as a person, that I loved him more than anything, and that I’d give the world to bring him back.

But those words never left my mouth, and I stepped down from the podium like a defeated coward, once again useless and weak. I hung my head as I was whispered reassurances that it was okay, I was allowed to be upset, but I knew deep down I was only allowed to feel regret. 

It hurt.

It hurt.

_It hurt._

I tried to make it up to his friends, offering them to come over and hold a small memorial of our own, but they were all busy with work and reassured me that the memorial that was held after the funeral was sufficient, that I had nothing to make up to them. I tried to offer my help to his mother, but she only told me I should deal with his death on my own terms, going on about how torn up I must be and how strong I was for keeping myself together.

I wanted to scream at her for how wrong she was.

I was a mess. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t think. I fell back into old habits and cut Jean’s friends and family from my life, ignoring their calls to check in on me and trying to avoid them when they visited. I didn’t deserve their pity and I certainly didn’t deserve Jean’s mother’s understanding. It hurt too much to face them, and I knew it was selfish and terrible to ignore them, but I did it anyway.

 For another six months, I tried to keep up with bills on my own, and tried to stay in school, but ultimately I was forced to move again as the rent was too high and I didn’t make enough alone to cover costs. I dropped out of college, quit my job, and moved further into the city where I became a receptionist for Survey Insurance, LLC. It paid decently and allowed me to build somewhat of a savings, but I mainly decided on moving again since it was better than returning to the shithole back in my old town.

It hurt to move out of that apartment. It was one of the last remnants I had of Jean, and every night I’d convince myself that he would come home. I'd tell myself that he’d come through the door and say it was all some big fucked-up joke, and somehow it would help me sleep. I must have dreamed about his return a million times. I’d punch him in the arm and yell at him before crying and hugging him. He’d have that big, stupid smile on his face the entire time, that lovely glint behind his soft brown eyes. Oh, what I wouldn’t give to have him look at me again, even if it was just for a moment. Sometimes I imagined him coming home in the middle of the night, making love to me again while littering my face with kisses, whispering soft words of love and passion into my ear.

The day I moved into my new single bedroom apartment was the day I promised myself that I would never fall for the throws of love again. It wasn’t my utterance of the word ‘love’ that was cursed, it was my entire existence. Anyone who grew close to me ran a huge risk and I simply couldn’t bear to suffer through being the cause of someone else’s anguish.

 

So here I was, sitting at my dining room table alone, eating a bowl of flavorless overly-sugary cereal with no milk while staring at the blank wall. I had one picture of Jean and I sitting on the Ikea shelf I had pulled from storage before going through the apartment for stuff to donate when I was preparing to move, but that was the only decoration I had in the apartment. After hours of reading through instructions and failing twice to assemble the damn shelf, I managed it, even if it was missing a screw or two. It was my monument to Jean, a place for me to feel his presence, even if he wasn’t physically there with me.

I did bother with getting cable at the new apartment since my new job paid better and I could afford it. I didn’t see any reason to deprive myself of entertainment, especially when it helped numb me from the outside world. It was in front of the TV that I spent most of my nights, this particular night being no different as I lay cuddled on the couch with a throw wrapped around me.

I couldn’t sleep in my bed, not anymore. It brought back too much pain and it felt too big and too cold for just myself to sleep in. Then again, nothing ever really felt right without Jean anymore. Most days when I got home from work, I would eat a miniscule amount, shower, and then watch TV into the wee morning hours until I finally grew too exhausted to keep my eyes open. Every day I was tired, but it felt normal, I felt like I deserved to feel that way. Jean must have felt that way when I nagged him all the time, after all.

Every morning, at six am, my alarm would ring and I would crawl off the couch and shut the TV off, going about my morning routine before walking to work down the block and going through the mindless tasks at hand. I filled out message requests, re-directed phone calls, scheduled meetings, and sent client information to their respective agent.

It was in my strict routines that I felt like I had some sort of control over myself. I wasn’t so enthralled with controlling my every emotion around people, but I was meticulous about the way I did things. I had become so thorough in my morning routine that I had developed a routine for putting toothpaste on my toothbrush.

This was how things were supposed to be for me. I knew now that if I didn't try to push the boundaries beyond where I knew I ought to keep them, nobody had to suffer and I could continue going through life as the shadow I was meant to be. This was what my life was. Meaningless and menial. There were those, like Jean, who were meant to succeed and make great changes to the world, and then there were people like me, meant to serve as the background of those great people, to serve them and stay out of the way. People like me were meant to do the things that nobody of any real standing should be bothered to do. It was in this small, miniscule supporting role that I felt I most belonged. No longer would I have a boisterous, arrogant, long-faced, beautiful man to sneak me small pieces of a life I would never fit into.

I accepted once more that I was small and insignificant. Things would be better this way...or so I had hoped.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short update, I know, but the story starts progressing again in the next update! Thank you so much for reading, and I appreciate your kudos and comments! :)


	13. Fireside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the long delay in this chapter, Hurricane Irma and college got in the way. I also decided to scratch some of the ideas I had for this story since it would only make it drag on way longer than it needed to be and everyone wants to see Levi, so here you go lol. Hope this is at least decent, I'm not completely satisfied with it but I'll edit it if I see it needs it. Kudos and comments are appreciated.

I couldn’t stay in that fucking apartment any longer. I just couldn’t. I needed to get out and get a breath of fresh air or I might have just gone insane. I don’t know how I did it before, shutting myself from the outside world, hiding away like a recluse. Maybe I was used to the stale air and silence. I know I used to find comfort in it, but now it seemed foreign and unsettling. Jean must have rubbed off on me, that man was anything but _quiet_ as he was _quite_ chaotic, and so was I when I finally let myself out of my shell. Both of us together could create quite the ruckus, especially if we were fighting, as Jean had a tendency to slam things around when he got riled enough.

That’s how I found myself here, at the very place that Jean had gone before he died. The smell of stale smoke was better than the musk of the apartment, by far, and the low hum of the bar patrons laughing and joking loudly made for decent ambience. It _wasn’t_ quiet and that comforted me. How strange, now that my lover is dead, I’ve started to notice just how much he’s affected me.

Maybe I’m being too morbid.

Maybe this was always me, and I just didn’t know it. I had pretended to be exactly the opposite of myself for nearly a decade before Jean, after all, and even with him it wasn’t until the last few months of our relationship that I had really found myself. You could say I never _really_ knew who I was, and I probably still don’t if I were being entirely honest. I had thought I had a clue when I was in high school, some loud, obnoxious kid who needed to grow up, and I had thought I had a clue when I did grow up, some quiet pushover who cries every time shit got hard. I’m not either of those things now.  
I’m not really sure who I am now. Until recently, I had let everyone else’s opinion of me define who I am.

Right now, I think my outing is more of a result of that pesky flame within me refusing to die. I had thought that with Jean’s passing, it would be easy to go back to living the way I had before, miniscule and non-fulfilling. How wrong I was. It had extinguished during my grief, I had reverted back to the quiet ghost of a person I once was, but now, a year and a half after his death, the grief didn’t sting so badly and I was beginning to grow unsettled with just how different being alone felt.

I ordered some stupid IPA Jean used to drink that I could tolerate. I still didn’t like alcohol, and haven’t ever drank it much. I’m nearly twenty-seven now and I still don’t know how to order anything other than a beer or a gin and tonic, in fact, I’m not even really versed on any kind of drink. I do know, however, that I want to let go tonight. I want to get so drunk I won’t remember tonight, I won’t remember this empty hole I have in my chest,  and I don’t really care about what repercussions will come from it. I had accepted earlier today that the best case scenario would be that I’d wake up in my apartment probably running late to work, and worse case I’d be in jail for some stupid alcohol-fueled decision and have to find another job once I got out depending on how severely I fucked up.

Either way, I don’t give a single fuck about what happens tonight.

After about an hour I was feeling it, and another half hour after that I was _really_ feeling it. I had only gotten through three IPAs, but decided to switch to something heavier like a bourbon and coke. I had no idea how much bourbon I had, and I’m one hundred percent sure that’s what got me. It wasn’t until I stood up to go to the bathroom that the sick dizzy feeling hit me. Everything got wavy, it felt like a tidal wave had smashed into me. The entire room started leaning and I went with it, stumbling into a barstool next to me.

I hadn’t really been paying attention to my surroundings, my focus having been solely on putting down as much alcohol as possible without killing myself, but there was definitely someone occupying the seat next to me, and he was less than pleased that I was toppling into his lap. Maybe if I was sober I wouldn’t have laughed as hard as I did, but when he jokingly asked me with a slight edge in his otherwise monotone voice if I was trying to make a move I lost it. I laughed so hard I could feel tears streaking down my cheeks, and that’s when I felt strong hands grabbing me by the shoulders and shoving me back into the bar.

I felt the dull ache from the impact and groaned in discontent, stifling my laughter as those same hands grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me off the counter.

"Have you paid your fucking tab? Do you have anyone here with you?” It was that same deep monotone from before. This guy might be trying to throw me out, I realized.

“N-No…Hold on.” I managed to stifle out. “D-Don’t make me leave, hold on. I’ll pay it. Just hold on.”

“We’re not going anywhere brat, just hurry up and pay your fucking tab so I can call you a cab. You’re a mess.” Brat? Who does this guy think he is? I’m too drunk for this, I feel sick. Where did I put my wallet again?

Patting down my pants, I finally came to the realization that I had left my wallet sitting on the bar and promptly reached over to grab it, leaning quite heavily against the mahogany counter as I fished out my credit card. I’ll worry about the bill later, right now I wanted to throw up. Everything was swimming and so was my stomach. When the bartender finally gave back my card, I scribbled out what I thought was a twenty-dollar tip onto the proper line and signed as straight as I could manage before those rough hands were pulling me back from the bar and towards the bathroom.

“W-Wah? W-Wait..where’re we goin’?” I stumbled behind this man, who I noticed was a few inches shorter than myself, and then a stupid grin burst over my face. “O-Ohhhh I see, yer th’one makin’ a move on meeee now.” I slurred, earning a grunt from the stranger before he shoved me into the door to the bathroom and through it, as if he were using my body as a door ram of some sort. I stumbled and fell into the wall before his hands grabbed me again and guided me roughly to a stall.

“You look sick, don’t want you throwing up on me.” He growled, and as if on cue, I hunched over the toilet and threw up everything I had in my stomach with violent wretches. Oh god I felt so sick.

The stranger let out a disgusted noise and then informed me he’d call a cab outside the bathroom as I wretched again. I listened for his shoes until the hard tap faded and sighed, resting my cheek against my arm. Holy shit I was drunk, and I didn’t know what to do.

First of all, who the fuck was that guy and why was he helping me? Secondly, how the fuck am I going to pay for this cab because thinking back on it now, I think I had left one extra zero on that tip section of the receipt and I’d be kicking myself if I wasn’t feeling like the world was about to implode.

I don’t know how much time passed before I finally managed to flush the toilet and straighten myself back to some sort of standing position, leaning heavily against the stall door. Everything hurt now, my tunnel vision still spinning and I felt like I was not in control of my body. It moved on its own accord out of the bathroom without bothering to wash up and straight back into the man who had taken me there in the first place.

He shoved me off with a complaint about my breath before dragging me quickly out the door to the bar and onto the sidewalk where he seemed to be looking for something. Oh that’s right, he was supposed to call me a cab.

Shit. I can’t afford a cab.

“Stupid brat, what were you thinking coming out alone to a bar when you obviously can’t handle your alcohol?” He kept looking around and sighed, muttering about unreliable cabs.

“M’don’t have no friends…” I muttered, digging into my pockets for my phone before sighing again. “N’I don’t have m’phone.” I turned to walk back into the bar before the man realized what I was doing and yanked me back to his side, pressing my phone into my hand.

“I grabbed it when you left it on the fucking bar.” He growled. “Get your shit together, how old are you? You look young.”

I was very offended by the notion that he obviously thought I was drinking underage. I wasn’t that young! I was in my late twenties! Oh, but I had more pressing matters to deal with. Like how I was going to pay for this cab I couldn’t afford nor had I consented to. I pushed at him and stumbled back, earning another grunt and his inquiry as to what I was doing.

“I c’n walk home…n-not that drunk..” I scratched at my head. “L-Live close…”

“You’re so drunk you can’t even stand straight, nice try though kid, now stand still.”

“N-Not a kid…” I pouted, stumbling back to his side once again and tapping my toe against the concrete before stumbling over my own feet again.

“Really?” I looked at his face and he was raising a thin eyebrow, his steely eyes fixing me with a gaze of disbelief.

“M-mhn…M’twenty-six….” I muttered, holding my stomach again as another wave of nausea hit me.

“Fuck, don’t throw up on me.” He spat, side stepping from me again and turning his face away.

“I-I cn’t afford…cab.” I muttered, sinking down to sit on the sidewalk. For some reason it seemed much nicer to sit than stand, and I fixed my eyes on the bumper of a car to try and right my vision. It didn’t work, it only swam worse.

“You what?”

“I-I put too many zeros…”

“You’re not making any fucking sense.”

“The tip…”

“You tipped too much?”

“Yeah.”

“What are you, nineteen?” He groaned, and pinched the bridge of his nose as if he had a headache. With a long sigh he dug into his pocket and pulled out his keys, reaching down to pull me up by my arm. “Come on, where do you live?”

"Why?” I asked, dumbfounded while he only looked at me incredulously.

“I’m taking you home, idiot. Where do you live?” He turned his head from me to check the road before tugging me along and opening his sleek-looking black car. I couldn’t recognize the make or model through my spinning vision and I was quite sure this was how you ended up in a ditch somewhere but I presently didn’t care, as this man was quite attractive now that I was able to make out his face from a closer angle. I didn’t say anything while he shoved me into his backseat with a threat growled out that if I so much as got anything on his leather seats he’d reupholster it with my own hide, or something along those lines.

When I finally settled into the leather seat while he walked around to the driver’s side, I sighed, looking around the cab. It was quite an expensive car, meaning this man probably made a lot of money. In my drunk mind, he was doing such a nice thing for me, taking me home when he didn’t have to. For some reason this meant that I needed to let him know that he was doing a good deed.

“What’s yer name? You know, yer really nice.”

“Levi.” He deadpanned, not so much as looking at me as he pulled out his phone.

“Levi, tha’sa pretty name….Y’kno yer really nice fer doing somethin’ like this fer me…”

“Sure. Where do you live?” He grunted, eyeing me through the rear-view mirror. A dopy grin spread across my face.

“Close by, where do you live? I really think yer nice fer doin’ this fer me—“

“I know, now give me your address.” I could tell he was beginning to grow impatient. His expression didn't change but his voice grew more clipped.

“Oh? Y’wanna come over? My place’sa mess tho…you seem neat, so y’probably wouldn’ like it.”

“Probably not, but I’m just trying to take you home.”

“Oh, well that’sa really nice thing t’do. Yer a really good person, Levi.”

“Brat, give me your fucking address.”

“Woah, calm down…it’sam….uhh…four…forty-one Juniper…Lane? I think…” There was a moment of silence before he shook his head as if waiting for me to go on. I only sat and stared at him like an idiot.

“You think?” He seemed to keep the same expression through the entire conversation, but this in particular had his eyebrow raised, so I figured that was something.

“Yeah…”

“Do you even know your address?”

“Yeah! I jus’ told it to you…Do you need it again? Yer really nice fer doin’ this fer me…”

With that he gave a hard sigh and pulled out of the parking lot. After driving for another ten minutes or so, I began to feel really tired. My attention moved from repeating myself about how nice this Levi guy was to how every light seemed to blur together as we made turns and drove around. I also had to really concentrate to keep myself from swaying in the direction of his turns and slamming my face into the passenger’s seat in front of me every time he braked. When we finally stopped driving, I had to think really hard about what was happening because I’d forgotten momentarily that he was taking me home.

When I nearly fell out of his car when he opened the door, however, I realized we were not, in fact, at my apartment complex, but some motel.

“W-Where are we?” I asked, extremely confused.

“What do you fucking mean where are we? I took you to the fucking address you gave me.”

“T-This…isn’t my house.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” He let go of me and stormed off a few steps and pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes, muttering under his breath before turning and shoving me back into the car.

“You’re staying with me tonight, then.”

“Wha? Really? That’s…I’m gonna be sick.” It was sudden, but it was coming up so fast there was no possible way I could stop myself. He grabbed me by the collar and drug me out of the car so fast my knees and hands hit the asphalt hard. I puked and wretched for a good minute or so before he stepped closer and around the mess I’d made, throwing me a hankercheif.

“Disgusting. For fuck’s sake, what have I gotten myself into.” I heard him muttering under his breath and I felt bad. My emotions were a roller coaster, and it was quickly spiraling downward.

“I-I’m sorry…” I sniffed, tears beginning to streak down my face. I was so embarrassed now, having not realized what a mess I was. Was I really that disgusting? Why did I care what this stranger thought of me? Oh, because he was being nice and I was being stupid.

"Fuck, don’t cry.” He sighed, long and hard, shaking his head in exasperation.

“S-Sorry.” I sniffled, scrubbing at my eyes once I’d cleaned myself up and he helped me up much gentler this time around, helping me into the car.  
We didn’t speak so much as a word to each other as we drove up to what was apparently his apartment complex. It wasn’t overly expensive-looking, but definitely better than my own, and he was still softer in his approach to handling my incoherent babbling as he pulled me from the car.

“M’sorry…”

“Don’t apologize, just don’t get shit-faced in public alone like this.”

“Don’ even kno’ who y’are…” I struggled to follow him as he strung my arm over his shoulders and his own arm around my waist, a little smirk on my lips as I looked back towards the car. I was mostly joking but he didn’t seem to take it that way, fixing me with a look.

“Would you prefer me to take you back to that motel?” He stopped walking and I realized he was being serious.

“N-No...Yer nice…” That earned the faintest of chuckles and the hard lines on his face softened as he turned his gaze back to the automatic doors in front of us.

“Then come on, pick up your feet. Did you mix your alcohol?”

“D-Don’t kno’ wha’that means…” I was beginning to feel extremely tired now, my eyes having a hard time blinking as my eyelids felt really heavy.

“Don’t fall asleep on me now, we’ve got to at least make it to the elevator and you need to bathe. You reek.”

“M’Sorry…” I muttered, leaning against him heavily now. He might be short but he was really strong, since he didn’t seem to want to topple over at my weight.

We got to the elevator and he keyed in his floor with a swipe of some kind of card. The motion of the thing had me reeling again and I stumbled some as I dry-heaved, nothing left in my stomach to come up anymore. Levi had taken a step back from me again and let me lean against the wall until we reached the eighth floor. When the door opened, he took hold of my arm once he was sure I wasn’t going to vomit all over him and tentatively led me down the hall.

“Don’t throw up, for the love of all things, don’t throw up on my floors.”

“M’wont…” I muttered, not bothering to look at what door number we were at as he keyed in another code into the door, kicking it open after turning the handle and tugging me inside.

It was spacious, that’s all I could really gather. We walked into the open kitchen and living room that contained only a single tan leather sofa and a coffee table in front of a mounted TV, before everything was spinning again and I was in some really bright white bathroom.

“Towels are in the cabinet under the sink, when you take off your clothes, put them by the door so I can wash them, and don’t fucking kill yourself in the shower.”

“Mmkay…” I muttered, and heard the door close as he exited the bathroom. Looking around I let myself sink to the floor against the door as I tried to gather my senses. I had no idea where I was, but at least I wasn’t dead yet, and on the brighter side of things, he was really attractive. I was content with dying at the hands of someone attractive. What was I even thinking about? What did I need to do?

Shower. That’s right, he said I reek. I sniffed myself and winced away, feeling the sick well up again.

Yeah, I fucking reeked.

 

I did as he asked and managed not to slip in the shower, and once I was clean and warm, I felt a hell of a lot better. I wasn’t coherent in the least sense, but I at least didn’t feel quite so nauseous. With a towel haphazardly wrapped around my waist, I poked my head out the door and called for him, though I couldn’t remember his name.

“Hey?” I looked around the room outside the door. It was dark, but there was a bed so it must be a bedroom of some sort. I wasn’t sure if it was his or not, but I could hear something going on deeper into the apartment before the distinctive click of his shoes against tile.

“What?” He asked, opening the bedroom door and peering in tentatively.

“C-Clothes…w-wha’s yer name again?”

“Levi, and they’re on the bed. Don’t throw up on anything, there’s water on the nightstand.”

“O-Oh…M’sleeping here?”

“Where else would you sleep?” He asked flatly, his face unchanging.

“I-I dunno…” I muttered and he sighed.

“Stay in here, this is your bed for the night, if you need anything I’ll be in the living room.”

With that he shut the door, and the room went dark again. It took me a few minutes of thinking about what I actually wanted to do before I opened the bathroom door wider and stumbled into the room, not bothering with keeping the towel up since he didn’t seem to be coming back anytime soon. When I got to the bed, I pulled on the sweatpants that were waiting for me and laughed a little as they came up a little high on my legs. He was short, I’d forgotten that detail.

I finally wrestled into the shirt he got me, uncaring if it were backwards or not since I hadn’t thought to turn on the lamp on the nightstand, and shut the door to the bathroom without bothering to turn out the light inside. Fumbling for the bed, I immediately flopped onto it and let sleep take over me. I would deal with whoever that man was and the hangover tomorrow, for now, I felt so tired I could barely keep my eyes open and the bed was quite comfortable.

It wasn’t long before I was out like a light.


	14. Chance Meetings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I apologize for delay. I've given up on a posting schedule at this point. Hope the quality of the story isn't declining. If it is, I apologize. Let me know what you think in the comments, it really helps me develop my writing skills and stay motivated.

When I woke up the next morning the first thing I did was check my bank app on my phone to make sure I hadn’t actually left the two hundred dollar tip I remember thinking I had left the night before. My memory was foggy, but I distinctly remembered that aspect of the night and I knew that my bank would be calling soon if I had overdrawn. Thankfully, I had only left twenty dollars, and my checking account was still in good standing. Great. Now I had more important things to deal with.

Like figuring out where the fuck I was.  
  
I didn’t recognize the room at all, most of the end of the night a blur, but I did remember a particularly attractive man taking me out of the bar. Maybe I had gone home with him? Whether he was actually attractive or not, I had no idea. I had heard of stories telling how alcohol fucked with your judgement and plenty of funny tales from Jean’s friends about how they’d woken up next to someone they’d never even give a second glance at sober. I hoped this was not one of those cases.

Groaning, I stretched my arms over my head and then let out a hard yawn, wincing at the pounding in the back of my skull. Man I got really fucked up, but instead of being upset about that, I was more disappointed I could still remember most of the night. Fuck. The whole point was to forget. Now I had to suffer the consequential hangover from a failed attempt. I couldn’t even drink right, apparently. I was sick to my stomach and pretty sure I had mixed my alcohol wrong. Wasn’t the saying liquor before beer…  
  
Oh well.

Sitting up, I scratched at my back, looking down at the horrendously tight sweatpants I was wearing and then looked around the room for my actual clothes. You know, the ones I was wearing last night. No trace of them. Fuck. Guess I wasn’t making the walk of shame without facing the man who’d been oh so lucky enough to take me home. On the nightstand there was a glass of what I assumed was water and two white tablets, but I’d already played my luck with coming home with a complete stranger, better not try the mysterious pills he gives me too.  
  
After my best attempt at looking somewhat decent in the bathroom, I walked back into and out of the room I had woken up in and peered down the hallway. There was another door and an opening at the opposite end of the hall, and right next to my door was a folding door to a closet that had something whirring behind it, probably a dryer. That must be his laundry space. No sign of the mystery man, however, so I trudged down the hall towards the opening that I assumed led to the center of the apartment.

Surprise, surprise, there he was, sitting on the tan leather couch with a bowl of what looked like cereal in his lap and his attention focused on the TV that was currently blaring a news station of some kind. God it was too loud, or maybe the apartment echoed too much…either way it turned the intensity of my headache up five notches.  
  
At some point he must have noticed my presence, as I kind of just stood stupidly in the opening of the hallway unsure of how exactly to approach him and address the situation at hand, because his head snapped in my direction and he fixed me with a look that I couldn’t quite read. What the hell do I say to him? ‘Thank you for dragging my sorry ass to your beautiful home, where’s my clothes, I’d really like to just go home and forget this’ sounded too blunt and ungrateful, but there wasn’t much of an alternative.

Thankfully he must have deemed I was taking too long to say anything, because he was the one who spoke first, and _fuck_ if I wasn’t enthralled in that deep voice of his. I hadn’t necessarily expected that from a man who appeared to be short in stature, but his expressionless face and stoic gaze made it a little more fitting, I guess. It took me a moment to process that he was actually speaking words to me though.  
  
“—H-Huh? Wha—O-Oh! S-Sorry, clothes. Where are my clothes…?” I stammered, and he simply stared at me for a moment.  
  
“Dryer. In the closet by the room you stayed in.” He deadpanned, and I jumped slightly. He had such a presence about him that demanded respect, and all I could think to say was ‘Yes sir’ and scamper back down the hall. I think I might have heard him chuckle, but I wasn’t entirely sure. He was really hard to read.  
  
Finding my clothes where he said they would be, I pulled them out and pressed my face into the warmth for a few minutes, enjoying how it helped sooth my aching temples, before moving into the room I had woken up in to change. I felt like my head was going to implode, and my stomach certainly wasn’t happy with me either.

When I got back into the center of the apartment he was in the kitchen, which was barred off from the living room by only an island, doing dishes with his back to me as the sink was on the far wall. He was wearing a pair of sweats that looked a lot like the ones I had been wearing and a white t-shirt, so I couldn’t really make out his stature, but he seemed fairly fit from what I could tell. I wasn’t really sure why I was so enthralled in figuring out this guy, though, since I’m sure I’d never see him again once I walked through the front door to go home… I guess it was on the off chance I _might_ cross paths with him again that I might be able to recognize him, but then again not many people had undercuts like the one he had…or raven black hair quite so intense…or was so fucking short.

 I almost snorted at the thought, and that’s when he turned to look over his shoulder at me for a second before turning his attention back to what he was doing. I felt like I should say something, so I fiddled with my thumbs for a second as I wracked my brain and spat out the first thing that came to my mind.  
  
“U-Uh…Thanks. For…taking care of me.” I stammered as I couldn’t really think of anything else to say, patting my pockets to make sure I had grabbed my wallet, keys and phone off the night stand.  
  
“Mm, you probably shouldn’t drink yourself stupid next time.” He grunted. “People might think you have a problem.”  
  
“Ah…Noted…” I muttered, picking at a string on my shirt before gulping. So…do I leave? I have no idea how this sort of thing worked. We hadn’t slept together, that’s for certain, but it was still an awkward situation. “I-I’ll be going then, thanks, uh…Levi was it?” I had to think really hard to remember what fucking name he gave me the night before, but he didn’t correct me so I guessed that was it.  
  
“Don’t think too hard on it.” Was all he uttered in that deep monotone. He didn’t even turn around to look at me again or anything, just simply went about his business like I was never there. I’m not really sure why that bothered me, it’s not like I had any idea who this man was, and he certainly didn’t know me.    
  
With a shrug, I pulled the handle and walked silently out of the apartment and down the hall to the shiny gold doors of the elevator. What a weird morning…ugh, whatever. I just have to get through work and then I can go numb on my couch in the wretched empty solitude of my own home….oh _shit._  
  
I’m late for fucking work.

  
  
The hangover gods must have been in my favor today, since my boss, Nile, didn’t seem too angry with me that I was two hours late coming in. He questioned the bags under my eyes and I simply gave the excuse that I had stayed up too late ‘studying’. That seemed to convince him, and he backed off after telling me not to fuck up again. Point taken, yes sir. Lord give me the strength to get through the day.

Thankfully, I managed to get through most of my shift without too much getting in the way, and I only had to deal with two people who were pissed that I couldn’t take their insurance claim while their agent was out to lunch. It was a common thing I got screamed at for by many different people, and I still don’t really understand why some people can’t seem to get it through their head that I’m just the fucking _receptionist,_ but whatever. They’re going through shit, it sucks to have to call your insurance company for a claim, I get it. What I don’t understand is why I have to be their punching bag. Guess that’s just customer service in a nutshell.  
  
I had noticed after some time working here that I had grown a thicker skin when it came to dealing with people. Maybe it was Jean’s influence, maybe it happened after he died, but either way, at least I didn’t cry like a bitch every time someone so much as raised their voice at me.

It was sort of scaring me how detached I was from feeling _anything,_ though. I felt so emotionless for the most part, like I was simply idling through life, but at the same time not. Like I didn’t really care about what happened anymore, only just enough to get me out of bed the next day.  
  
I staggered into my apartment with the intent to sit on the couch and not move, but the further I got into my routine of getting ready for bed, the less motivation I had to actually get through it completely. This was becoming a normal thing, and I wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about it. Usually I would never even dream of leaving my routines unfinished, be it getting ready for work, cleaning, or getting ready for bed. I never faltered, and I was always diligent. Lately though, I just haven’t had the desire to. The same anxiety I felt before about getting through them didn’t affect me anymore, and more often than not I dread just the thought of them. I don’t find comfort in it anymore. I don’t really find comfort in anything anymore. Everything just seemed so dull and pointless.  
  
Fuck hangovers and fuck thinking about this shit. Whether I’ve changed or not doesn’t matter, there’s nothing I can do about it now. I’m sick of worrying about myself. I’m sick of caring. I’m going back to the bar. I can’t be in this place alone. I can’t. I can’t be alone, and I have no friends. What a mess I was, hm?  
  
Changing back out of my loungewear, I pulled on a pair of my nice jeans and a shirt that Jean had bought me one year for Christmas. It still had the smell of his cologne on it, I don’t think I’ve worn it since the night after I got it, but I didn’t find it unsettling. Rather, it was kind of nice. Refreshing. He always liked these foresty, musty scents that I was never fond of until he wore them around me.  
  
Now wasn’t a time to think about Jean though. I was trying to _forget_ about him, about the pain of his loss, about the Jean-sized hole in my chest he left.

His fault.

His fault.

_His fault._

 

  
It took another thirty minutes of making sure I didn’t look like absolute shit before I made my way back to the same bar I had been in last night. I didn’t really expect that Levi guy to be here for a second night in a row, so I figured I could just sit back and enjoy the stupor of alcohol without too much distraction. Or at least, that’s what I thought up until I actually walked into the pub and he was _behind the bar.  
  
_ I didn’t really know what to do at first, I hadn’t exactly expected him to fucking work at the place. I just sort of stood in the doorway for a moment or two gawking at him until he finally turned to see who had come in, visibly faltering for a moment before steeling himself. For a second I thought a genuine look of surprise crossed his features before they were schooled back into indifference the next.  
  
“Didn’t you learn your lesson, already? You’re already back.” He grunted, and I frowned.  
  
“Well ‘hello’ to you too.” I spat and sat my ass down in a stool directly across from him, fixing him with a challenging look _.  
_  
“ID.” He grunted, holding his hand out expectantly, and that threw me off. Was he really carding me? I didn’t look that young, for Christ’s sake. He seemed to catch on to what I was thinking, because in the next minute he was sighing and rolling his eyes. “I card anyone who looks under forty, kid, give me your fucking ID and don’t look like I just insulted your mother.”  
  
I blinked and had to actively remember that he was _standing there waiting for me_ and then dug out my wallet, retrieving my ID and handing it over to him while he glanced over at it. He glared at it for a few seconds and then let out a small grunt, clicking his tongue. I quirked an eyebrow and flicked my eyes to the card in his hand before meeting his gaze.  
  
“What?” I asked, feeling like an idiot sitting there staring at him.  
  
“You’re really twenty-six?” He questioned, his eyes flicking up to meet mine with a suspicious glint as if trying to figure out if I was trying to pull his leg.  
  
“For fuck’s sake, let me live. Yes, I’m twenty-six, and no, that’s not a fake.” I growled, god damn it all I just wanted a drink.  
  
“ _Some_ people think it’s a complement to be asked for ID at a bar, you know. At least you don’t look like some wrinkled old fuck.” He tossed the card back at me and it clattered against the bar, my eyebrow twitching with the noise. Was this how he treated every customer?  
  
“You look pretty young yourself, I thought they only hired _adults_ to work as bartenders.” I snapped back as I stuffed the card into my wallet, quite done with the day and frankly, I was tempted to leave and find a different place to drink.  He smirked, however, just faintly, and shook his head.  
  
“If you think _I_ look young, you need to get out more.” His grey eyes settled on me as if he were memorizing my features and I squirmed in my seat. “I’ll have you know I’m thirty-five.”  
  
Holy _shit._ There was no way this guy was thirty-five, no way in hell. He looked like he could be my age, not pushing thirty. This guy was halfway to his golden years already.  
  
“Don’t look so fucking flabbergasted and tell me what you want to drink, already, I don’t have all night.” He snapped and my attention was back onto him now.  
  
Squirming lightly, I ordered the first thing I could think of, another god damn IPA by the only brewery I knew, and he gave me an incredulous look as if he were judging my capacity for choosing a drink before rolling his eyes and walking down the bar. Once the lid was popped off the bottle, he slid it down the bar quickly and it slowly came to a smooth halt right in front of me. I blinked a few times before looking up at him, catching his cool gaze that lingered a second or two too long for comfort and then he was turning to take care of someone else on the other end of the counter. Weird…

 

  
  
As the night wore on, I gathered that he was fairly talented as a bartender. The longer I sat, the less I drank and the more I watched how he spun his shakers and flipped them with precise skill in intricate patterns before pouring the liquid smoothly into its glass. It was mesmerizing, he moved fluidly, like water, and I was captivated by his dance.  
  
It also seemed he was quite known and liked, judging how most of the patrons who came in seemed to know who he was like they regularly visited. It made me feel a bit out of place, even though I probably knew more about him than anyone here. He was cryptic, and even after getting a glimpse of his private life, I still felt like I was seeing this man for the first time in my life.  
  
He came back to me after another half hour, and I’d just finished the IPA. I felt sort of flustered in a way, as he seemed to be silently prompting me on my next order. I didn’t quite feel like drinking anymore, however, I just wanted to watch him, but I figured that would be weird. Trying to think of anything other than an IPA, I just had him get me a different lager I vaguely remembered seeing off some TV commercial. Again, he slung the glass he’d filled from the beer tap halfway down the bar so quickly I barely registered it before it was sliding to a slow halt right in front of me, not a drop sloshing over the rim. Was he trying to impress me?  
  
I’m sure he knew I was watching him. There was no way he didn’t, actually, I was staring at him, after all. He would send small looks my way every now and then, too, as if he were checking whether I was watching or not. Every time I took that as my que to scramble for my glass and nurse off the bitter tasting lager as if I hadn’t been ogling his technique like a hawk. I quickly figured out I hated this particular brew after the second time of trying to play off coolly.  
  
By the time I finally thought I ought to go home, the traffic around the bar had died down and it was close to one in the morning, an hour before the place closed for the night. I hadn’t realized how long I’d stuck around until I finally checked my phone, a message from the girl who was an assistant to two agents letting me know I had left my bag at work. She’s been trying really hard to talk to me; I guess I just really didn’t feel like giving her the time of day. Levi, however, came back just as I was about to hail him to pay my tab. He leaned against the counter on his elbow, his head propped up by his fist, his other hand placed on his hip, as if he were acting with bored impatience, if that was even an emotion someone could have. The black shirt he wore had the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the first two buttons undone that hadn’t been before. He must be close to checking out for the night.  
  
“Do you have some sort of bartender fetish?” He deadpanned, and my face instantly lit up in a deep red blush.  
  
“W-Wha-what are you---I-I don’t---I mean—“  
  
“Calm your fucking tits, I’m messing with you. You stare a lot, that’s all. You planning on paying the tab before you walk out or what?” He pushed himself off the counter to lean on the one behind him, then crossed his arms. I swallowed thickly as I tried to come up with a reply, suddenly self-conscious about where exactly my gaze was settling.  
  
“Was just getting my wallet out…” I muttered, flicking my eyes to the side once he raised a brow at me.  
  
“You sure you’re coherent enough this time to find it?” There was a sarcastic lilt in his tone this time, but I still gave him an offended glare and tossed my card at him.  
  
“It’s a wonder you still work here with a personality as uninviting as that.” I spat, and he seemed a little wounded for a second before grabbing the card and shrugging, making his way to the register at the middle of the bar. When he came back, he tossed a pen at me along with my receipt to sign, waiting with his arms once again folded over his chest.  
  
“Not going leave too many zeros on the tip this time, right?”  
  
“Actually I was only gonna put one, but since you insist, I’ll just leave it blank.” I snapped, not really sure why I was moody. I guess it was because I couldn’t make out whether this guy was joking with me or being serious. He was _really_ hard to understand.  
  
“Good, I’ll just fill in the tip for you.”  
  
“H-Hey!---“ He grabbed the paper as I had just finished signing out from under the pen and then plucked the that from my hand, scribbling something down. I stood up then, having had enough of this asshole, about to protest and yell before he was shoving the paper back at me and clicking his tongue.  
  
“Don’t get your fucking panties in a wad.” He snapped and walked away, and I was left blinking. Looking down at the receipt, I saw on the tip line an arrangement of numbers. Not just any arrangement, however…

 It was his _phone number._  
  
I felt my cheeks grow warm again, and before he could get the chance to look back at me, I snatched the receipt up, threw a ten dollar bill on the counter from my wallet onto the counter, and scurried out of the pub as if I were being burned. I didn’t stop walking until I was what I deemed a safe distance away from the place before looking back down at the numbers scrawled in chicken scratch at the bottom of my receipt.  
  
_What was with that guy…_


	15. Excuses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for all the time you had to wait for this. I hope you like it and that it's up to par with your expectations. Let me know what you think in the comments.

I never ended up trying to contact Levi since he gave me what I assumed was his number four weeks ago, nor have I been back to that bar. It wasn’t like I was intentionally avoiding him _per say_ , but that was definitely part of the reason I hadn’t been back and I felt guilty for it. The other part was the fact that Nile has taken it upon himself to upgrade my workload as punishment for showing up late and hungover.

 Now not only do I have to organize the damn meetings my agents are attending, but I have to write up fucking mock scripts and make sure they have all the documents and shit they need. I’m beginning to wonder if the line between their job and my own actually exists, or if I’m simply given the title of receptionist to justify my gross underpayment. Either way, at least I still make overtime if I have to stay late.

This particular day, however, was quite rough. I managed to fuck up a schedule for my first agent, Mr. Zacharias, by double booking him for an appointment for a consultation as well as an executive meeting. Nile, thoroughly pissed upon receiving word on the confusion, chewed my ass out and threatened to fire me if it happened again. He says there’s plenty of drug addict kids that could replace me if I left, I’m more concerned over where he got the idea that I was a _drug addict_. That was quite uncalled for...

Thinking on it once I made it back home, maybe it was the substantial amount of weight that I’ve lost in the recent months of working there that gave Nile the impression I wasn't doing it in a healthy manner. I haven’t really been feeling all that hungry, and when I do consume something, it hadn’t been all that rich in nutritional value. Looking in the mirror before my shower shocked me. I could see every rib, my stomach caved slightly beneath my ribcage, and my cheeks looked sunken slightly. I looked sort of sick, no wonder he thought I was on something.

Touching my face with tentative hands, I swallowed thickly and sighed, glancing away from my reflection as if it would start mocking me. I needed to start getting my life back together. I can’t keep living in this miserable state. Jean’s... _dead_ and I need to accept that and move on. If only it were that easy.

Every time I find something of Jean’s I forgot I had, I would sit for a long time staring at it. I would try to remember everything about it that I could, and every reason as to why I had bothered to keep it. Some empty can of Jean’s favorite cologne, a random old article of clothing, a picture of us together, I was finding things left and right, it seemed. I hadn’t ever really bothered to finish unpacking since I moved into this apartment either, and that might be part of it. Boxes still lined the walls of my room and the hall leading to it. I had just been too exhausted and too afraid to sort through it all. I was afraid I might come across another painful remnant of Jean. I was afraid of coming across another reason to hate myself.

I figured if I was going to start moving on and getting myself back together, however, I could do it by unpacking one box at a time. One box every other day until I started getting more confident with it. That sounded fair.... I could throw out old shit that didn’t matter anymore, of course keep what meant something to me, and make more space for myself to live in. My apartment wasn’t nearly as big as Jean and I’s old one, and so downsizing was necessary even if that idiot horse-face was still alive.

Thirty minutes into my first box, I was already disillusioned and feeling that sick, twisted _dread_ that threatened to eat me alive upon finding a framed picture of Jean and I’s one-year anniversary. The bastard had bought me fucking _roses,_ the hopeless closet romantic he was, and I was so embarrassed when he had Marco take a picture of us with the bouquet. He’d surprised me at work…I had yelled at him for it…

Oh this was exhausting. I wasn’t sure how I was going to get through all these boxes if I kept this up every time I found something, and fuck if I didn’t feel suffocated at the moment. Choked out by my own apartment, the urge to drink growing ever stronger as I thought about what I wanted to do.

My resolve was not strong on this box thing, and soon enough I was getting dressed and ready to head out into the cold night. After carefully setting the framed photo onto the Ikea shelf that was slowly beginning to serve as some weird shrine to Jean, I grabbed my keys and headed out without a clear idea as to where I was going yet.

I knew I was going to avoid the bar that Levi worked at like the plague despite a lingering urge to check in and see if he was there, that was for sure. Strolling past it as the music and patrons loudly conversing inside rolled on loud enough to be heard from across the street. It wasn’t a bad pub at all, loud, but local enough you didn’t have to deal with too many dumb college-aged assholes. I didn’t really want to risk seeing Levi again, despite my wanting to check in on him, the guilt of not contacting him after he had been kind enough to both help me when I was shitfaced and give me his number eating at me.

About three city blocks from that bar was a nightclub that seemed popular among people in their mid-twenties, and I figured it would be an appropriate place for me since I wasn’t so old that I would stick out. A quick flash of my ID to the bouncer, and I was ushered inside and made my way to the bar. I wasn’t all that interested in dancing, after all. Just drinking, and the music was loud enough I didn’t have to worry about anyone trying to talk to me.

After about twenty minutes, however, I was sick of the place. I hadn’t even finished one drink before some young, drunk idiot was spilling his drink all over the counter and consequentially into my lap. Sticky and uncomfortably, I stood and payed my tab. Considered the find a failure, I moved on and trekked back down the city block even further in the opposite direction from where I came.

After twenty more minutes of walking, I stumbled across a quaint little pub tucked between a Chinese fast food place and a twenty-four-hour bail bonds service. Shrugging, I figured it was as good as it was going to get, and so I made my way inside. The atmosphere wasn’t inviting, but it wasn’t rejecting either. Everyone seemed to be keeping to smaller groups huddled together chatting over the low hum of everyone else. Conversations mixing into the low thump of a song I didn’t recognize. It wasn’t overly crowded, which was nice, and so after deeming the place appropriate I made my way to the nearest open barstool.

After taking my ID, debit card, and order, the bartender left me alone to make my drink and I took the opportunity to try and gauge the people around me. None of them looked familiar at all, which was a blessing. It gave me the false sense that I would be able to relax and enjoy myself for once.

Life never played fair with me, though. I should really know this by now.

I had just received my drink from the bartender, some gin and tonic I already knew I would hate but would force myself to stomach for the sake of getting drunk, when the door swung open and a particularly familiar voice carded by quickly. It was gone all too soon, and I wasn’t quite sure I was hearing right until I turned to look over my shoulder.

 _Levi_.

Levi was fucking here, at this fucking bar, with some tall blond guy that looked like he could either be a really lame dad or a rich guy who was really bad at blending in. Of fucking course Levi would come into the same bar I was in. Why else wouldn’t he? It’s not like I wanted a break from my problems or anything.

The first drink I had I spent hunched over and stressed to hell and back, dead set on trying to make sure Levi didn’t recognize me. People didn’t particularly take intentional avoidance all that well, and he really didn’t seem like the kind of person who gave second chances. That was evident in the way he constantly held the same disinterested expression every time I saw him. I wondered if he was just stuck like that, or if he’d experienced some type of hardship that made him close off from the rest of the world.

If that’s the case, maybe we have more in common than I originally thought.

As I let my mind wander down that particular train of thought, my eyes met Levi’s for a brief moment as he sat on the bend of the bar some ways away from where I was seated. Quickly adverting my gaze, I felt my cheeks grow hot and just _knew_ I was probably burning bright fucking tomato red, and that fact was more than likely clear as day with my luck.

Levi didn’t do anything, though, he simply looked at me and then back towards the man he’d walked in with. That made me feel even more uncomfortable to be honest. I’d rather he confronts me and _tell_ me how much of a dick I am for ignoring him like I did. If I were anything like my old self, I would have been ridden with anxiety over the entire ordeal. So much so, that I wouldn’t be able to function as coolly as I was now. I wouldn’t have been able to turn my gaze away from him, wouldn’t have been able to lift my glass to take another sip.

No, had I been my old self I would have run out of that bar like a coward. The fact that I didn’t, the fact that particular part of me was long gone, filled me with a confidence I was unfamiliar with. Why _should_ I feel bad about it at all? Fuck, I didn’t know this guy, I didn’t have any reason to call him. He didn’t _have_ to help me. Sure, he’s attractive, a little mysterious, and I’m definitely quite intrigued by him…but I don’t _owe_ him anything.

With that thought and my newfound confidence, I continued drinking as if I hadn’t seen Levi walk into that bar. It was quite nice, for the most part. I didn’t have to worry about anything. I could just focus on my drink and the dull buzz of people around me while I watched cars and people walk along the sidewalks. It was therapeutic in a sense.

My little trance didn’t last too long, however. I hadn’t necessarily been paying attention to my surroundings, nor did I have any idea of how long I’d been sitting there, but apparently long enough that someone felt the need to occupy the vacant stool next to me and elbow my arm.

“You look like you’re in some melodramatic sitcom.”

 _Levi_.

Shrugging, I didn’t look up from my drink. So he’d decided to approach me? I figured he’d take my avoidance as a ‘we don’t talk about it’ sort of cue. I guess he didn’t read it that way. Swallowing thickly, I sighed and finally peered out the corner of my eye at him.

“I thought you worked at another bar. Don’t tell me you work here too?” I inquired, glancing him over. He was dressed down in dark, muted greys. A simple turtle neck and a leather jacket, black jeans to match. He _looked_ cool, I couldn’t deny that. Just as mysteriously dressed as he was a person. An enigma to me.

“Excuse me for not wanting to spend every waking moment at the same bar.” He grunted, sipping the last of the drink he had before hailing the bartender. He ordered something I’d never heard of and then settled back into the stool, tapping his fingers against the wood while he regarded me with an unreadable gaze. I returned it, turning my head now to regard him. I wasn’t about to be the one to speak first.  
He snorted a short, stifled laugh and the corner of his mouth twitched into a half-smirk. Shaking his head as our little staring match ended with his new drink placed in front of him.

“Haven’t heard from you in a while. You haven’t stopped by either.” He observed, his gaze never leaving his front, fixed on the beverage display where various bottles of liquor stood proud.

“I haven’t had a reason to go there.” I chided, and he flicked his gaze at me with that. I bit my lip.

“That so?” He drawled, his fingers stopped tapping and rest silently against the base of his glass. I swallowed thickly, looking down at my lap as I thought over what to say. There wasn’t really any sense in being _rude_ to him. I was probably coming off a little cold. I don’t know why, but every time I’ve spoken to him, he’s managed to pull these strong reactions out of me without even trying, and I think that fact alone only bothered me more.

“To be honest, I haven’t really had the energy to go out.” I admitted with a soft sigh, glancing at the bar and picking at a chip in the wood counter. Levi regarded me once more, leaning against one elbow while his other hand rested against his glass.

“Why’s that?” He asked, blinking slowly.

“Work’s been kicking my ass.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a receptionist.” I answered bluntly, shrugging off his gradually prying questions.

“Mm, doesn’t sound that hard.” He turned again, looking bored now more than anything. I sighed and rubbed my temples.

“Well it is.”

Silence lingered over us after that. Levi simply sitting and sipping his drink, checking his watch every now and then and tapping at his phone and the counter. It made me painstakingly aware of just how _awkward_ the whole ordeal was, and I was beginning to think he was trying to mess with me. Was this some way of punishing me for not contacting him? I sure hope not. After some time of complete, awkward silence, I couldn't take it anymore. I had to say something. I had to address the elephant between us.

“Look, if this is your way of getting back at me for not texting you, I’m sorry, okay? I just…I didn’t know what to say.” I didn’t really know how else to break the unsettling silence that shrouded us, and my guilt was eating at me. God damn it I had no reason to feel this way! So why did I?! His voice, however, cut through my thoughts, and my gaze snapped back to his, his eyes never leaving mine as he drawled out his next words. 

"I never even mentioned that, brat. Is that what’s eating at you?” He smirked, a hint of untold victory in his eyes and I was seething for it. So he was messing with me!

“W-What!? N-No! You just---You just come up to me after giving me your number and me ignoring you, what do you expect me to think about? That’s not—that’s not why I chose _this_ bar, fuck, if I was avoiding you you’d know it.”

He seemed quite unimpressed with my little white lie, and shrugged, taking a drink to finish his glass and tossed a few bills onto the counter. Probably a tip and his tab. I gulped, watching him closely, his demeanor unreadable and god this was just so _awkward_.

“I don’t care if you text some old man back, kid. Just wanted to know what was eating at you.” He chided and snapped his jacket as he adjusted it. Shrugging, he tilted his head lightly in parting.

“See you around, I guess…maybe not.” 

With that he turned and left the bar without another word, his expression hadn't changed and his voice gave no hint as to what exactly he was feeling in that moment. I had no idea if what I had said had been hurtful, or if it even could warrant any hurt reaction from the raven. It was then, after staring after him for a few minutes, that I realized why I felt so guilty. I had _wanted_ so badly to text the number he gave me, but a part of me ate away the desire, reminding myself that sort of thing happened to everyone. That I shouldn’t feel flattered, and because of that feeling I took it out on him, after he'd gone out of his way for me. 

Now I was beginning to think that the idea of serial dating was flawed when it came to Levi. He really didn’t seem like the kind of person who just gave out his number to any pretty face he sees. He was much more…calculated than that. I’d figure he doesn’t usually take much interest in anyone at all, judging how he acted around his companion earlier.

Which reminded me, where the hell did that tall guy go?

I looked around the bar, blinking a few times as I searched for him before giving up. Maybe he had left early and Levi decided to take up company with me? And I had been nothing but rude and mean to him. Well…if that wasn’t enough to make him give up on me, then I don’t know what would.  
Sighing, I ran my fingers through my hair. Why did everything have to be so damn confusing?

I waited another hour before leaving the bar, finishing another drink and mulling about what I should do. Well, if I wanted to text Levi, then what was holding me back? Honestly, even if I didn’t know what his intentions were in giving me that number, I should at least let myself indulge.  
Pulling out the smartphone I’d gotten a year or so back, I tapped on the icon for my contacts and looked over for Levi’s number. I had saved it in my phone, just in case, though I’m still not really sure why. I was glad I had, though, because otherwise I wouldn’t have sent that risky text that I’d just typed out.  
  
“ _My name’s Eren, not brat.”_


	16. Fear and All its Games

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being so late with this update! I'm currently overseas and have really shitty internet for an unknown amount of time. Thanks for reading!

Levi and I had been texting for a month now. On and off, but never about anything more than light conversation. It was weird, I had expected him to be the type to immediately cut to the chase about his intentions, but he’d been relatively null in giving me any clue as to what exactly he was seeking from me. Maybe he was really lonely and wanted to have someone to talk to? Maybe he was looking at getting to know me more but didn’t know how? Maybe I was thinking too far into this and he gave it to me out of pity.

No, that made no sense considering it had been him to insist on it. He’d been the one to unceremoniously write it down, I didn’t have to ask.  
After weeks of pointless conversations, I sat at my work desk during my lunch break and heafted a long, drawling sigh. What to do? I wanted to know more about him. I wanted to ask him out, but maybe that would be too forward—gah, I don’t fucking know.  
I bit into my sandwich rather aggressively, tearing bites off of it like it had insulted my mother or something. It was enough to have Mr. Pixis poking his head out of his office.

“Hey kid, did you get that letterhead reformat finished?”

Mr. Pixis was my _other_ agent. Unlike Mr. Zacharias, Mr. Pixis was less put together in terms of organization, which often meant he let things fall through cracks and that often trickled down onto my shoulders to clean up. It wasn’t that I _didn’t like_ him, it was more that he was my _least favorite_ in the office. He liked to drawl off on strange tangents whenever I had conversation with him. I could ask about the weather and he’d start talking about some fishing trip anecdote involving his captain friend he mentions a lot. He’s just kind of kooky, and I’ve gathered he’s a complete drunk. He leaves the office early quite frequently because he’d gotten a little _too_ hammered from his flask he keeps hidden under his files.

Apparently he’s known Nile since they were kids and opened the firm with him, only to have ‘retired’ some thirty years later to an agent himself. I don’t think he really knows what he’s doing.

“No, sir, you haven’t forwarded the revisions you want.” I muttered over my sandwich. “If you do it now, I’ll get started on it after my break.”

He laughed a little and rubbed his forehead.

“I could of sworn I sent the damn thing…” He muttered, slinking back into his office.

When his door clicked, I huffed, turning my attention back to the shiny black phone on my desk. I hadn’t texted Levi all day, and usually I’m the one to start any conversation we have. Partially in hope he’ll take the lead and ask me something more personable than why work was such a drag that day or a blunt answer to how his day was going, but that never happened.

Slumping my shoulders, I mulled about sending something more…fruitful. Should I try asking him out myself since he hasn’t yet? Was he even interested in me like that? Am I even interested in him like that?  
God so much confusion and frustration about a man I barely know. I’m gonna drive myself insane at this rate.  
Deciding to bite the bullet and just fucking try to take the lead for once, I sent the first message of the day:

_What are you doing tonight?_

I waited…and waited…and waited, no answer. Ten minutes had passed, and unlike the usual reply within five minutes or so, I still had nothing. Alright, then, so maybe I was moving too fast? Then again, ten minutes isn’t all that long…  
My phone buzzed with a phone call against the desk and I nearly had a heart attack, scrambling to pick the device up to see who the hell was calling me before the color drained out of my face. Levi. Why the hell was he calling me?  
I spent too long looking at the phone before I realized it was about to send him to voicemail, and  so I quickly swiped at the accept button before hissing into the receiver.

“I’m at work, why are you calling me?”

“Why are you on your phone at work, brat?” He drawled, his voice sounding just as monotone and disinterested as ever.

“J-Just answer my question, _please_ , I have two miutes until my lunch break is over.” I whined, kicking myself under my desk. This was my first ever actual phone call with Levi – the first time actually hearing his voice in a month because of _course_ I was still avoiding that fucking bar like the plague—

“We’re meeting at seven, 543 West Fairbank, take the first left, the restaurant’s name is La Vigne, don’t dress like a stupid brat.” He said flatly.

“W-Wait what—“

“Didn’t you hear me?” He said with a lilt of sarcasm laced in his voice.

“A-Are you asking me out?” I stammered, face glowing red by now, I could feel it.

“Are we meeting or not?” His voice sounded a bit more clipped, getting impatient. “You’re the one who said you didn’t have long to talk.”

“U-Uh ye-ah—I guess, b-but wait--- Where?” I cursed under my breath as I scrambled for a pen and paper, scribbling down the address he repeated back in a rather annoyed huff and right after he was saying goodbye.

“R-Right, seven, bye—“ He hung up, and I was left dumbfounded at what had just happened.  
Were we…going out then? I think he just asked me out – well, more demanded it if I were really being honest. He didn’t exactly give me an option of going or not.

The rest of the time at work I was in some sort of dream state; I don’t remember much other than finally getting that damn email about Mr. Pixis’ letterhead revision. Why he even needed it was beyond me, but at this point I don’t care about it. I’m more concerned with the fact that I’ve basically got a date with Levi – at least I think it’s a date – and I’m not quite sure why I’m so giddy about it. I. Don’t. Even. Know. The. Guy.

Choosing an outfit was even more of an ordeal. _Don’t dress like a brat_ – what the fuck was that supposed to even mean? Formal? Semi-formal? Casual-formal? Black tie? _What the fuck_.

I figured researching what restaurant we were going to would help, and upon finding it’s Google review page, I nearly had a heart attack. The average plate cost about forty dollars. How the fuck was I supposed to pay for that? Was I even expected to pay it? What the hell am I doing?

Whipping through my clothes, I found something at least decently formal enough. This place isn’t five stars or anything but it’s fancy. I didn’t want to look like a fool no matter what the night ended up being. Maybe this guy just wanted to fuck me, and just really liked wining up his partners. Who knew, but at this point I’m so god damn lonely I’ll take anything. Getting my vest straightened over a teal button down, I fastened the belt holding up my slacks and sighed as I looked at myself in the mirror.

Wearing work clothes to a date is probably not the greatest idea but those were the nicest clothes I owned, and it’s not like Levi knew what I looked like at work. Calling a cab, I looked up the address one last time before tabbing over to Levi’s contact and checked the time. Half past six, I should make it there before seven. Satisfied, I let Levi know I’d be there five minutes til at the latest.

  _Don’t be late, brat._

Making it to the place was another fiasco. The cab driver took the address, but his GPS led us to some backend of a hotel. Obviously not what we were looking for, it turned out that he mistyped the address in the search bar and we were an extra ten minutes out from the restaurant. Running my shaking hands through my hair, I let out a nervous breath. Deciding to text Levi to let him know the issue with navigation.

_I could have picked you up, you know._

Then why didn’t he fucking offer it then? Rolling my eyes, I closed my phone and let out a hard exhale. It wasn’t worth worrying about, I’ll get there when I get there. As we drove along, I watched as we moved from the lower ends of the city towards the bustling center. Storefronts turned from shabby bars and sketchy-looking restaurants to more sophisticated looking office buildings and higher-end shops and restaurant fronts. More people were walking outside and the traffic had definitely picked up. I didn’t live in the worst part of the city, but I certainly didn’t live near anything like this.

Finally we pulled up to the restaurant’s front, the building made of beautifully carved stone blocks illuminated with soft light, vines decorating the front of the building and draped along the wrought iron fencing that blocked off the patio seating, already full of people.  
I swallowed thickly, the last time I’d gone anywhere near this nice had been to celebrate Jean and I’s…no. I’m not going to think about that right now. I’m not going to think about _him_. I’m doing this to get out there, to stop hiding away.

Maybe that’s why I was so nervous about it…I hadn’t actually gone out or really done anything with anyone since Jean died. It wasn’t like I felt guilty for going out, but I was definitely still grieving. The year and some odd months had served to numb the burning pain that I woke up with every day on that shabby fucking couch, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t still there.

Once I’d paid and exited the cab, I let out a hard sigh and tried to fix the unruly mess that was always my hair, and straightened my vest. Looking around for Levi, I found it odd that he wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Had I actually beaten him here? The time on my phone read five past seven, so I was late.

Had he decided to just leave?

Defeated with the thought of having both potentially ruined my chances with the only person I’ve tried to get to know, and wasting the twenty bucks on the cab. I was about to turn and hail another cab when I heard a low voice right behind me.

“I told you not to be late, kid.”

I nearly jumped out of my skin, spinning around all at once and sucking in a breath before gasping – “L-Levi!”

He fixed me with an unimpressed look, his eyes flicking down to my outfit before meeting my gaze once again. With a sigh, he closed his eyes and shook his head, throwing his blazer over his shoulder.

“Come on, they’ve got a table waiting for us.” He muttered, stepping past me and not waiting to see if I’d followed.

Blinking, I stumbled a moment and then trotted up behind him to keep up. For someone so short, he walked pretty fast. We reached the podium and I felt a little awkward already. I must have looked like some stupid kid following him around like a lost puppy, but it couldn’t be helped, this wasn’t a place I would come to usually.

Levi turned to me then, raising an eyebrow. “Are you comfortable with a booth?” He asked, and I only nodded dumbly. He let a smirk grace his features before turning back to the hostess in front of him.  
She smiled warmly and led us back to a table near the farther end of the restaurant. Everything was dim, the lamps overhead and over the tables casting a warm but low light over mahogany tables and wine red accented chairs and booths. When we were seated, I ran my fingers over the plush velveteen of the booth seat, taking in the atmosphere while Levi seated himself across from me.

“Like it?”

His voice caught my attention and I turned to watch him fold his cloth napkin and place it in his lap. I followed suit, since, of course, I didn’t want to be seen as more out of place than I already felt.

“Y-Yeah, it’s nice, um…so, why did you want to come…here?” I asked, my voice still wavering with my nerves despite how hard I tried to control it. It was no use; he’d already caught on to it.

Fixing me with another look, he stared for a moment before shrugging, tilting the empty wine glass at his place with his fingertips to the rim, almost like he was bored.

“Do you not take nice dates to nice dinners?” He asked, almost as if he was mocking the mere fact that I had asked. I swallowed, felt the red rush to my cheeks, and fidgeted my fingers against the napkin in my lap. It was thick, plush, and definitely felt _lux_.

“I don’t really date.” I said softly, adverting my gaze as his softened just the slightest.

“Sorry, have I overstepped—“

“No! No, no, no, I want to be here with you – I just meant – I mean, I haven’t…I uh, I haven’t really put myself out there much, so this, um…this is just kind of new for me.”

Silence blanketed us as he stared at me. All I could think was just how fucking _awkward_ this was getting before he was chuckling lightly, opening his menu.

“Relax. Get the Merlot, it’s better than that shitty Chardonnay they try to sell you.”

“O-Oh, uh, sure.” I opened my menu then, looking over the different options. French food…interesting. I didn’t know anything that was listed, looking around for something recognizable.

Levi must have known how confused I was, because he coughed lightly to get my attention.

“Do you like chicken?” He asked, and I nodded as his eyes flicked down to the menu.

“I’ll order for you.”

 

Once ordering was out of the way and our wines were poured – the Merlot that Levi had suggested _was_ wonderful, actually – I found myself wanting to ask him all the more personal questions I hadn’t had the guts to ask over text. Swallowing thickly, he looked at me and I opened my mouth to speak.

“So, how’d you get into the bartending business?” I asked gently, starting small.

“I own the bar.” He said flatly, and I recoiled a little, sipping my wine to avoid looking too off put by the blunt answer.

“Oh, I didn’t know…”

What was with this guy? Why was he shooting down my attempts at conversation? Maybe he really was just trying to wine me up to get me into bed and leave me dry the next day. Who knows, I didn’t care enough to think too far into it. He could start the conversations if he wanted to talk, then.

Eventually he did, sipping his wine before setting his glass down.

“What had you drinking so much that night you got shitfaced.” He asked, his voice a bit softer in tone, and dropped a few notches in volume, and I noticeably cringed. So much for keeping it light.

“Um, I’m…well getting over a past relationship.” I said, looking forlorn as I sipped off my own wine. “He um…We were together for a long time. I guess I’ve been taking it rather hard. That night I just couldn’t stay in my apartment alone anymore, so I went out with the intention to get so drunk I wouldn’t remember the night.”

He furrowed his brows and then sighed.

“I guess it was a good thing I was there then.”

I shrugged. “I guess, I didn’t really care what happened to me or where I ended up the next day. I...I’m sorry, it’s stupid, now that I really think about it.”

He shrugged. “We all have our vices.” He tilted his head. “I didn’t think you would actually keep my number.”

I was shocked then, looking up at him with raised eyebrows. “You…did something nice for me, why wouldn’t I?”  
“You know nothing about me.” He said flatly.

“Well, no, but…Isn’t that why you gave me your number in the first place? Isn’t that why we’re here?” I asked incredulously. He shrugged again.

“I don’t date often, either.” He said, simply dismissing my questions and tapping his fingers against the table like he did back at the bar he’d showed up to last time. Gee, I couldn’t imagine why—

“But it’s not every day I come across someone like you.” He smirked then, sipping his wine to try to hide it, but I caught it just before it slipped away. The red on my cheeks from before burned brighter, and I coughed into my napkin with my eyes looking anywhere but into his.

He’s fucking smooth, I’ll give him that.

“So, what exactly were you wanting from me, then?” I asked, feeling a little bolder now that I had nearly an entire glass of wine in me. I’m such a damn lightweight, but in this situation I didn’t think it was so much of a curse as it was a blessing. He seemed surprised by such a forward question, mulling on it for a moment before he let that smirk cross his lips once more.

“I’m not sure. Company above all else.” He muttered, and that was when the waitress came back with our food.

What was set before me nearly made my jaw drop. Never had I seen such a delicious looking plate of food, and yet, here it was. I looked at Levi, who was watching me carefully as his own equally appetizing plate was set in front of him.

“It’s just the appetizers, you know.” He picked up his fork with a wider smirk than before.

I guess it’s good that I amuse him so much.

 

  
By the time dinner was over, I was stuffed so full I couldn’t eat another bite if I tried. I was also buzzed, the wine having been non-stop since we got there. The waitress thanked us for dining that night and set the bill on the table, and I had been about to reach for it before Levi was snatching it up.

“Hey, wait, we can split – “

“I invited you. It’s only fair I pay.”

I just shut my mouth as he slipped his wallet from his blazer’s interior pocket. His jet black hair, which had been slicked back rather than left in his face in its usual undercut fashion, had slowly begun to fall loose in some places. With a soft chuckle, he looked up at me and I quickly stopped staring at him, fumbling with my napkin distractedly.

“You’re a pretty expensive date.”

“At least I didn’t get the lobster.” I blurted and then smirked, snorting out a laugh as he raised an eyebrow.

“Would you have rather had the lobster?” His question only made me giggle, covering my face as he stared at me.

“N-No, no. I’m just joking around s’all.”

“You’re drunk.” He deadpanned, and I shook my head stubbornly.

“Tipsy, actually.” I said, matter-of-factly.

He only sighed, rolling his eyes as he left a decent amount of cash in the check holder before standing.

“Come on, idiot. I’ll take you home.”

I stood, and as we walked out of the restaurant, I could have sworn I felt the ghost of his touch at the small of my back as I made my way down the patio steps and out towards the parking lot. It was then that I realized I had no idea what his car looked like or where I was going, but I was sure leading us somewhere.

Levi stepped around me and smirked, grabbing my arm above the elbow. “Where are you going.” He murmured in a low voice, and I shivered. When did he get so close?

“To your car, duh.” I snorted, and he only shook his head.

“You’re going the opposite direction.” He said as he pulled me along, over to that black car he’d had before. His grip didn’t hurt but it was definitely firm.

Finally, I was able to really get a look at what he drove. It was a black sedan, windows tinted so dark I probably couldn’t see inside on the brightest day. Levi opened the passenger’s side door and I sat inside. The seats were leather, and quite comfortable as I waited for Levi to round the front end of the car and slip in beside me. We sat for a few minutes after he’d started up the car before he looked at me.

“Nice car.” I said with a dumb smirk splayed over my lips. He rolled his eyes.

“Where are we going?” He asked, looking at me expectantly, and I stumbled on my thoughts for a moment before my smirk got wider.

“Wellllll…” I drawled. “The _last_ time you tossed me in here, we ended up at your place.” I grinned. “Maybe that could happen again?”

He fixed me with a look.

“I’m not fucking you tonight.”

If it had been possible to fall out of my seat, I would have. I looked at him with wide, unbelievable eyes and he only fixed me with a firmer gaze.

“W-Wait what?”

“Did you really think I would have taken you out to a place like this just to _use_ you, Eren?” He asked, almost wounded that I would have assumed as much of him. That was the first time he’d used my name and _god_ if the sound of it didn’t make me shiver—

“I-I mean---I don’t know! I-I don’t know you all that well. I thought, y’know…You were just looking for company.” I fucked up. “I-I mean, you said it yourself, right?” I _really_ fucked up.

He sighed and put the car into drive, rolling out of the parking lot.

“You’re right. I did.” His eyes flicked to look at me. “Is that what you want?”

A choice. I realized he was giving me a choice. We fuck tonight and never speak again or we write off the night as a somewhat successful date and keep up whatever the fuck it was that we had. I shrugged, looking down at my hands. Insecurities beginning to bite at me. Was I even worth his time to consider the latter option?

“W…What do you want?” I asked tentatively, looking at him out of the corner of my eye to gauge his expression before adverting them again.

“It’s not up to me.” He answered, and I was silent afterwards.

No, I’d already messed things up too much to redeem myself, I’m sure of it. I wounded him, thinking so lowly of him. Best just to make up for it with what I could and let him go on his way. He’d be dodging a bullet anyway, in my opinion.

“I want you to take me home with you.” I said, matching his gaze as he stared at me during the red light. After a long pause, the light changing, he shrugged.

“Alright, then.”


	17. Second Thoughts

The car ride to Levi’s apartment was tense, to say the least. I wasn’t sure how exactly to read his mood, considering he wasn’t exactly the most emotional person. I wouldn’t have minded that so much if we weren’t on our way to literally get it on and over with. I wrung my hands nervously, and his eyes drifted to me every now and then, but that was the only exchange we shared.

He pulled the sedan smoothly to a stop in a parking spot on the second to the top floor of his apartment complex’s parking garage, and immediately got out of the vehicle once it was shut off. I did the same, rubbing my sweating palms awkwardly on my slacks as he looked at me.   
Nodding his head toward the elevator, I nodded in response and we were off. I thought the ride up would be rather awkward, but the moment the doors closed and we were alone, he was on me in an instant. His strong arms caging me in against the back wall of the elevator, closing the distance between us so fast I barely had time to think before his lips were against mine.

We kissed heatedly, my shaking hands pulling eagerly at his button down while one of his own hands snaked down to squeeze my hip. His other hand had threaded roughly into my hair and tugging me down into a deeper kiss. His tongue brushed my lips, and I parted them to let him in, a soft noise of shuddering anticipation escaping as he mapped the inside of my mouth with his tongue. A leg slipped between mine, and then the elevator halted, chiming loudly before the door to Levi’s floor opened.   
He pulled away after that, panting lightly, his eyes lingering on mine before he sneered and grabbed my arm. Tugging me down the hall and to his door, it didn’t take longer than a few moments for him to whip out his keys and throw the door open. He entered, and I lingered for a breath, having second thoughts.

Did I really want this?

It had been so long. _So long_ since I’d felt the touch of someone else, loving or not, against my skin. Jean had been the last and only person I’d done something like this with. It was sort of jarring to be suddenly doing something like this with someone I barely knew.  I’d always found sex as an intimate act meant to be shared between two people who loved each other, never had a one-night stand crossed my mind until now.

A pull to my arm yanked me out of my thoughts. I looked at him, and he gave a questioning look back. I stepped inside, he closed the door, and then the space between us. Lips back on mine, hot and wanting as my back hit the door. His hands now delving beneath my shirt and touching over the skin of my abdomen. Enough overwhelming, heated touches to send a shiver through my body. I was starting to have more second thoughts, and I hoped they weren’t evident. I tried to mask it by focusing on undressing him, and he followed suit. My vest was on the floor, as was his blazer. My shaking hands beginning to work on the buttons of his shirt before he stopped me to pull it off himself, then my teal shirt was gone a few seconds later.

He was handsome. Strikingly so, in the way his muscles seem to ripple beneath his skin. It didn’t matter how attractive this man was, however, nor how much harder it was for me to tear my eyes away from his form, I was still getting cold feet the closer we got to the bedroom. His hands were on my body, his touch oh so wonderful against my touch-starved skin, but my mind was fleeting with fears.   
_You don’t know what you’re doing._

_You’re not good enough for someone like him._

Before I knew it we were in the bedroom, and my feet were only getting colder. I wasn’t sure about this, I was bordering on no longer wanting it. I knew he was worked up though, I could see it – I could feel it with how fierce our next make-out was. He was on me at once, kissing and sucking on my lower lip, only to push me back to sit onto the side of the bed. He moved then, pinning me down and leaning to press rough kisses down my neck. His hands spread over my chest before touching down to my nipples, pulling a sharp gasp from my lips, earning a smirk from him that quickly faded.

No…I didn’t want this, but I’d already gotten this far. It’d be even worse of me to push him away now.

Levi must have noticed, however, as I shied away from his touch, and his smirk quickly faded to a slight frown. He pulled away the moment the thought crossed my mind, panting and slightly disheveled, and fixed me with a look while he shook his head, hands carding through his hair as he took a hard breath.

“Get out.”

I wasn’t sure I’d heard him right, still for a moment as I looked up at him, which only earned me a harsher glare than the last. I tried to speak, tried to think of what to say.

“Levi, I—“

“Don’t. Don’t fucking patronize me.” He said harshly, and my mouth closed. “You don’t want this.”

I felt torn, all at once my fears and insecurities came closing in on me. His tone and his words cut through me, wounded me, and I knew I deserved it. I couldn’t meet his eyes, tears brimming my own. I was so useless. Such a waste of time and effort. I should have never bothered in the first place. What was I thinking?

He left the room then, a door slamming somewhere down the hall. I sat for a moment, tears streaking my face, not knowing what to do. Should I just gather my clothes or wait for him to come back?

He answered that question for me. A door opening again, a shuffling sound through the house, and he appeared in the doorway, my clothes in his hand and his own torso already re-dressed in a white undershirt. My eyes met his, my face tear stained and cheeks flushed, and he met me with a look of pity instead of frustration. A hard sigh left his body, and after a long minute of just looking at each other he approached me, setting my discarded clothing on the bed beside where I sat and reaching to touch my face. I flinched away at first, eyes cast to the floor, before he cupped my cheek with a tenderness I didn’t know could belong to a man like him.

“It’s alright.” He whispered, thumb swiping the start of a fresh stream of tears and I couldn’t help myself.

“How is this alright?!” My fists squeezed into the bedding and I shook my head, pulling from his touch reluctantly. He offered no response, simply looking at me, so I continued.

“C-Crying about getting fucked. Who does that? I’m such a fool.” I covered my face with my hands, resting my elbows on my knees as my back shook with unshed sobs.

He sighed, moving to sit beside me. His weight making the bed sink awkwardly around me.

“You’re not crying about that, though.” He gave a knowing look to me, and my eyes snapped to his. He slowly pulled his gaze from mine and flopped back onto the bed with a heafting sigh, looking up at the ceiling.

“I’m not asking to be your fucking therapist, but if you bottle all that shit up, it’s not gonna come out nicely.”

I sniffled, looking back at him.

“W-What?”

He huffed, looking back at me and shrugging.

“That shit you were talking about at dinner. About that man you were with before.” He looked uncomfortable. “If you want to talk about it, then do it.”

I looked back at the ground, a bitter smile on my face. I guess Jean’s death was still as fresh as it was the first day I found out about it. I thought after all this time, I’d be okay enough to do something like this, but that obviously wasn’t the case.

“It’s…A long story.”

“I’ve got nowhere to be.”

“It’s not interesting, either.”

“Maybe not, but I don’t really give a fuck about that.”

I turned and glared at him, frustrated now.

“Why!? Why the fuck do you give a shit about me?! I just tried to use you. The very thing you were trying not to do with me.” The tears were fresh again, rolling down my face. “E-Even before. Why bother taking someone like me out of that bar. Why did you bother giving a shit what happened to me that night? A complete stranger who doesn’t mean shit to anybody anyway.” I rubbed at my eyes, and he let out a grunt.

“Did he make you feel worthless?”

I couldn’t sit there anymore. Jean never made me feel worthless. He gave me life, a purpose. If anything Jean gave me so damn much, and all I could ever do was complain about it and give nothing in return. Instead of telling him I loved him, I told him he wasn’t good enough. I felt all that suppressed guilt come crashing back down onto me, tearing from the bed and throwing on my shirt. Of course I couldn’t tell someone like Levi any of this. He didn’t deserve to be caught up in my bullshit. Especially when it’s nothing important. I didn’t want to waste his time crying about things like a child when there were people who’d gone through so much worse than myself.

“I should go.” I said, voice shaking, and he was about to protest before I turned. “You don’t know a damn thing about me. W-Why should I tell you anything anyway? I don’t know what the fuck am I even doing here.”

He didn’t stop me, watching me with those same, god damn unreadable eyes, and I left.

 

By the time I made it home, I was a sobbing mess. I couldn’t help myself. I felt so disgusting for having tried to use Levi like that, and the words I had said when he was just trying to offer me help – help I shouldn’t have been offered – only served to intensify that feeling.

It was all just so frustrating and confusing. In one night a man I’d never had any deep or fulfilling conversation with went from a complete stranger to acting as if I’d known him for years. How could I even begin to tell him what was wrong with me? I made a fool of myself in front of him. There was no way I could ever face him again.

I still avoided the bar, I ignored his texts and the one time he tried to call me, and I tried so damn hard to fight the urge to answer every single time. For two weeks I did that, pushing back the demons in my head that had come out to play after so long of living with them muted.

 It got easier as the time passed, as with anything, and after the end of the second week I was feeling back to somewhat of my normal self.

I should have known fate liked to play games with me far too much to stay content, however.

 

It was a normal week day, Levi had stopped trying to text me a few days prior, and I was getting through the day with relative ease. At least it _was_ , until someone coughed next to my desk, making me nearly jump from my seat.

It was extremely rare for anyone to come into the office, let alone up to my desk, so it startled me greatly that somebody was there and I hadn’t heard them approaching at all. Looking up to see who it was, my eyes locked onto all too familiar steel grey ones. _Levi_.

He looked at me, and I looked at him, not a word exchanged between the both of us. My face burned, though, I could feel it. I wanted to say something. _To apologize_. But he spoke first.

“Where is Pixis’ office?” He inquired, tone flat, just as uninviting as his gaze.

I adverted my eyes, saying nothing as I lifted my hand to gesture to the door closest to my desk. Levi’s eyes left me and looked at the door. I waited to hear him leave, but after a minute or so of holding my arm up in the gesture, I looked up only to find him gone. He’d left without a word. Not even the door to Pixis’ office had clicked as he closed it behind him.

Sighing, I lowered my arm and rubbed my temples.

_Just don’t think about it._

_Just get the damn paperwork done and he’ll be gone before you know it._

 

There wasn’t any commotion for over an hour, and so I decided to just get up and use the restroom five minutes before my normal lunch break time. Mr. Zacharias was out, and apparently Mr. Pixis was occupied, so it’s not like they’d be needing me for anything. As I was washing my hands, however, Levi walked in. He stopped in the doorway, eyeing me for a moment, before sidling up to the sink right next to me.

“Didn’t know you worked here.” He said, his voice curt. My eyes remained on my hands.

“Yeah.” I grunted back, looking over at him wearily.

A steel gaze met mine, and he turned off the water to his sink. Silence enveloped the bathroom. Too constricting, a suffocating silence that I had to break. I had to apologize.

“L-Listen, Levi, I’m sorry---“

“Stop. There’s nothing for you to apologize about.” He said in a rather gruff, dismissive tone, pulling away then to walk towards the paper towels.

“But…”

He let out a harsh sigh and growled at me. He might not admit it, but I knew he was hurt.

“Look, if it’s really got you so fucking twisted up, text me back and come see me at the fucking bar tonight.”

He didn’t turn to look at me, but I sure looked at him. At his back. At the way his body moved beneath the fabric of the long sleeved grey shirt he wore. I swallowed, unsure what to think now. Did I upset him that much that night? Did he understand that I was just…feeling overly emotional and scared? Was that even the case or was there further, underlying issues about the goings on that night that I have yet to address?

Levi must of sensed I was all up in my head, and spoke again. His tone a bit softer, more relaxed. It soothed me to hear, and my mind wandered to think about what it might be like to feel that deep, powerful voice with my head against his chest – _wait what?_

“We can put that night behind us,” His voice sliced through my train of thought, and he turned his head over his shoulder as I stiffened and pulled from my sink, “forget it ever happened. Start over. We both made mistakes.”

I was at a loss, only nodding meekly. He took that as an acceptable answer and left the bathroom shortly after. I had to turn my gaze back to the mirror in front of me to make sure I was thinking straight. I really just thought about listening to his voice while we _cuddled_ , right?

I’m not going crazy, right?

It’s no secret that I found Levi attractive, but I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to be close to him in any particular way but right in that moment. Shaking my head, I chalked it up to just being lonely, craving that delicate touch he’d given me the night I broke down like some kid on his bed.   
I exhaled a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding.

Tonight was going to be interesting, to say the least.

 

 

 


End file.
